A/N: Heh HELLLOOO. Sorry for like the six month delay or some shit. I started college, but i have the itch to write again so im going to write and contunie this story from now on. Sorry again if u an og, you can comment some fucked shit and shit on me i understand.
The low, rhythmic groan of a rusted brown Cadillac heralded its arrival outside El Coyote Cojo.
Inside the cabin, the air was thick with the soulful, melancholic brass of old Spanish jazz, a relic of a world that felt far more stable than the one outside. The music cut abruptly as the engine died.
The door creaked open, and a sturdy medic's boot stepped onto the sun baked concrete of the parking lot.
Gloria Martinez emerged, clutching a vacuum-sealed courier bag matted out in light eating black. She adjusted her yellow paramedic jacket, checked the scratched glass of her OS linked watch, and sighed.
7:30 AM.
The morning air in Heywood was already heavy with the smell of recycled smog and street food grease.
She pushed through the heavy doors of the Coyote, greeted by the comforting, domestic hum of sizzling artificial eggs and soy-bacon. Graffiti tags fought for space on the walls alongside vibrant, sprawling murals of fallen Valentinos, saints of the street painted in gold and rose-red.
At the counter, Mama Welles was a whirlwind of practiced motion, sliding steaming mugs of caffeine toward the neighborhood's early labor force. To the left, tucked under the shadow of the staircase, a German Shepherd lay curled into a ball, his ears twitching in his sleep.
Mama Welles caught the yellow jacket in her periphery and paused. Her gaze lingered on Gloria as she approached.
"What can I do for you, hija?" Mama Welles asked, filling a cup before Gloria even had to ask.
Gloria took a grateful sip, the heat grounding her. "Gracias. I'm looking for a runner. I was told he operates out of this shop." She slid a scrap of paper across the counter.
Mama Welles' eyes narrowed as she read the name. Her thumb traced the edge of the paper. "Seeing as you have his personal handle, mind if I ask who sent a city medic to my basement?"
"Maine," Gloria said simply. "He said this kid was one of the best at cleaning up sensitive biz."
Mama Welles' expression softened into a knowing, slightly protective smile. She jerked a thumb toward the back. "Maine, eh? Tall, loud, and expensive. Fine. You'll find Teo downstairs. Just watch your step, that boy has more wires down there than a mainframe."
"Gracias," Gloria finished her coffee in one determined gulp and headed for the sliding steel door.
The door was an art canvas in its own right, covered in layers of neon spray paint.
Dominating the center was a massive, stylized green ghost with a manic, jagged grin, Teo's signature. As she approached, a concealed camera in the corner chirped, its light flickered from red to a welcoming emerald.
The door hissed open.
Descending into the basement felt like walking into the gut of a machine. It was dark, cooled to a chilling temperature to protect the hardware, and smelled of ozone, copper, and stale tobacco.
Massive server racks hummed like a choir of cicadas, draped in thick, umbilical cables that Gloria had to step over carefully.
Surround sound speakers played a discordant but hypnotic blend of Spanish EDM and indie rock. In the far corner, a massive multi monitor rig cast a flickering blue light over the room.
In the center of that light sat Teo.
He looked younger than she expected, eighteen, maybe the same age as her son. His dark crimson hair was a messy blowout that caught the glow of the screens.
He was hunched over, dressed only in a tank top and jeans, but the most jarring sight was the thick, white bandages wrapping the stump where his right arm should have been.
His eyes were glowing green, scrolling cascades of white code reflecting in his pupils. A hand-rolled cigarette dangled precariously from his lip, a thin trail of smoke drifting into the server fans.
"Gracias... Mateo, is it?" Gloria spoke up, her voice small against the hum of the servers. "I'm Gloria. Maine said you could scrub this order."
Teo didn't move for a heartbeat. Then, he let out a long, grey plume of smoke and blinked. The green glow faded, his pupils returning to their slitted, emerald cat like shape. He jacked out of the terminal with a sharp clack.
"Right... Gloria. Maines' favorite scavenger," Teo's voice was raspy, exhausted. He held out his left hand, the only one he had left.
"Hand it over."
Gloria passed the bag. Teo sliced it open with a surgical precision, extracting a palm sized chipboard. He squinted at the serial numbers.
"Militech ANVIL-P Mark II. High end pain nullifier, military grade," Teo muttered, tapping the board.
"The feedback loops on these are nasty. If the Corp's 'death pulse' isn't scrubbed, the next user's brain will fry the second they jack in. The fuck did you rip this out of?"
Gloria shrugged, her face a mask of professional neutrality. "Found it in the trash."
Teo let out a dry, hacking giggle. "The trash. Pft. Sure, and I'm the Mayor of Night City."
He struggled for a moment, trying to use his missing limb to steady the board before a flash of frustration crossed his face. He pinned the board down with a magnetic clamp instead, his left hand moving with a twitchy, caffeine fueled speed.
"You're too young to be smoking those, Mateo," Gloria said, pulling up a stool. "It'll ruin your lungs before the chrome ruins your brain."
"That's why we got lung implants, Señora," Teo retorted, jacking a neural cable from his armrest directly into the board's maintenance port. "Besides, I'm a big boy. My bad habits don't affect your eddies."
His eyes glazed over again as Fucker initiated the scrub.
'SYSTEM OVERRIDE INITIATED... DAEMON DEPLOYED: GHOST_CLEANER.EXE TARGET: MILITECH ENCRYPTION LAYER 7 F'
"Ooh, this one is spicy, Teo! It's got a 'property of Militech' tracker pinging every five seconds. Let's turn that into a loop of static, shall we?" Fuckers voice rang out in Teo's head.
"Your right," Gloria sighed, watching the kid's brow furrow as he fought the digital ghost in the machine. "But I'm a medic. Habit."
"A medic who scavs corpses," Teo smirked. He reached for a precision screwdriver on his right, his shoulder twitching instinctively. He stared at the empty space for a second, his jaw tightening. "Aye..."
He used his left hand to clumsily navigate the tool, unscrewing a thermal plate to reveal a hidden data port.
"What happened to the arm?" Gloria asked softly.
Teo scrunched his nose, focusing on an advanced security matrix that was trying to lock him out. "Big Militech Solo. Cut it off with a superheated monowire." He waved the bandaged stump dismissively.
"And the Solo?"
"His brains are currently decorating a warehouse floor in Northside," Teo snapped.
Gloria's eyebrows shot up. "You took down a Militech Solo? Dios mio... you're David's age, and you're already neck deep in this."
"David?" Teo asked, his left hand steadying as the progress bar on his screen hit 90%.
"My son. He's at the Arasaka Academy. He's... he's going to be someone. Top of the tower." Gloria's eyes shined with a fragile kind of hope.
"What about you. Still in school?"
Teo went still.
He looked at her, his expression deadpanning. "Señora, I'm missing an arm and there's a gun rack full of illicit tech to your left. School in Night City is a lie. Heywood High is just a nursery for future Valentinos and street meat. You really think Arasaka is any different? They just wear better suits."
Gloria frowned, her voice firm. "David is smart. He's different. He'll get to the top, and then... then he'll retire me. He'll be safe."
Teo looked at the board, the "Anvil" he had just stripped of its soul. It was cold, corporate, and lethal. He thought of his own mother for a fleeting second, a memory of a voice long since hushed by the city.
"You're a good mother, Gloria," Teo said, his voice losing its sarcastic edge. "You're doing the best you can with a shitty hand."
Gloria looked surprised, a small smile gracing her features. "Thank you, Mateo."
He unclipped the wires and slid the scrubbed tech back into its bag. "It's clean. No pings, no trackers. Maine can slot this into a toddler and Militech wouldn't know."
Gloria stood up, reaching out her right hand for a shake before quickly realizing and switching to her left. Teo met it with his own.
"Have a good one, Señora."
As she disappeared back through the server racks, Teo stubbed out his cigarette and let his head fall onto the desk with a heavy thump.
"Hah..." he exhaled, his stump itching with a phantom fire. He reached for a bottle of prescription blockers and shook out two pills.
"Easy with the combat stims and blockers, pendejo. Your liver isn't chrome yet. Take too many and you'll start seeing me in the real world." Fucker's voice having a worried edge to it.
"I got it, Fucker," Teo grunted. He stood up, his balance still slightly off, and walked to the small bathroom tucked in the corner.
He splashed cold water on his face and stared into the mirror. Heavy bags hung under his eyes; his skin was a shade paler than the warm Chicano gold it usually was.
You need sleep, Teo. Real sleep. Not 'netrunner trance' sleep."
"Can't sleep," Teo whispered, his left hand reaching into his pocket to pull out Pilot Guy's dog tags. He gripped the cold metal until his knuckles turned white. "The arm hurts too much."
He stared at the NUSA engraving on the tag.
"Motherfucker," he hissed at the ghost of the man he killed.
"Even in death, you're still findin' ways to fuck with me."