The thin metal cap popped off the beer bottle with a satisfying thunk as I leaned against a concrete barricade close to H11, the cold sting of the drink helping me settle my thoughts after the previous hour of furious window shopping.
I needed to get a grip on all the ideas constantly popping into my head whenever I saw something even vaguely interesting if I didn't want to lose it sooner rather than later.
"Doing something tangible would probably help." I muttered to myself and promptly decided to move on.
I spied Misty arriving some half an hour earlier which meant I had a good few hours to kill.
Might as well see how Rita was doing.
[Calling: Rita Wheeler...]
She answered only two rings later.
[Borg boy!] She said cheerily [Thought you already forgot about me.]
[I did but then I felt a sudden pain in my ass, and here we are.] Was my instant answer.
She laughed [Glad to have left an impression. Need something, M?] She smiled suggestively [Or someone?]
[Just checking in.] I answered plainly [Suzie didn't look all that happy with us yesterday and you are the only one she could reasonably fuck over.]
[Cute of you to worry.] She smirked teasingly [But I'm fine. The girls would throw a fit if she tried something after I got the twins back, and I know she secretly approves, she is just too much of a hard ass bitch to say it out loud.]
[The burdens of leadership.] I drawled.
[Shhh.] She winked [She might actually do something if she hears her secret is out.]
[I dread the very concept.] I chuckled [The girls doing fine?]
[Oh yeah!] She nodded happily [We managed to get most of them back to their families but three had nowhere to go so we have three new Moxes with us.]
[Happy to hear you didn't just toss them out.] I said approvingly [This city needs a bit of goodness every now and then.]
[We help who we can.] She shrugged but I could see it in her eyes she disliked how truly little that meant on scale [Some of the girls were 'tino family and they said they would spread your name around.]
[Great. How generous of them.] I sighed.
Rita tilted her head [Don't like spreading your rep?]
[Don't like attention in general, as stupid as that sounds with my looks.] I shrugged [But I could do worse than getting a bit of a name with the most tolerable gang around.]
[Not a very high bar that.] She shook her head and switched topics [Going to be dropping by at Lizzie's anytime soon? The girls are dying to meet you.] She purred with a mischievous wiggle of her eyebrows.
[I think I'll pass for now.] I said hesitantly.
[What's this?] Rita's eyes widened with mischief [The scary death borg is shy?]
Random excuses, go! [I like taking things slow, call me old fashioned.]
[Welles already got his claws in you?] She deadpanned [Should I expect you to start wearing skulls and gold everywhere in a few weeks?]
Instead of denying it I cupped my chin and hummed [I would look pretty good with some tasteful gold plating, wouldn't I?]
She squinted at me [I hate that you aren't wrong.]
A smug smirk twisted on my face [Borg aesthetics are a rising art.]
[Sure they are.] She rolled her eyes and then suddenly looked away, as if someone was speaking to her outside the call.
She looked annoyed and turned back to me [Sorry, M but I gotta run. Some gonkass got it into his head he can touch what he wants just because he is big.]
[Go break his balls, Rita.] I cheered her on.
She grinned a bloodthirsty grin [Oh, I intend to.] And the call ended.
'Well, that was a nice distraction.' I took another sip of my beer 'But what now...' My eyes scanned the streets and then the thought occurred I might as well get started on upgrading my van.
Except just then a familiar number called.
I pickled up immediately [This is Magos.]
[M.] Regina Jones nodded [You free for a gig?]
I was already walking before she was done speaking [Who am I zeroing?]
-----
I returned from the quick retrieval job without so much as a ruffled coat, the gonkhead gangbanger kids who decided to steal a fancy suitcase thankfully not painted across the concrete pavement as my simple presence was enough to intimidate them into giving it up.
The package was luckily untouched and promptly deposited into the nearest DropBox, and I was made 10k richer as a small bonus for not so much as peeking into whatever it contained.
Ms. Jones noted the corpo who paid for the retrieval wanted the kids dead more than he wanted his case back but he didn't specify that so tough fucking luck. Too bad the data I had on them got accidentally corrupted and they were now just some forgotten street rats among thousands of others.
All in all a good day's work.
And to make it even better, I returned home just as the sun was starting to set to the sight of my mother looking just a bit lighter than when I left, and I immediately marked down another debt owed to Misty.
She'd probably grumble if she knew that but that woman deserved the best in life.
The next two days found me in a surprisingly peaceful rhythm, despite my rising usefulness to Ms. Jones, and my deal with the Tyger Claw boss neither needed me at all times of the week which left me to my tinkering and allowed me to actually start designing my new Cyberlegs.
An act I immersed myself into thoroughly, going through dozens of designs before being satisfied with an optimal combination that would both make me almost completely silent step-wise, and allow me to run and leap at thoroughly superhuman levels.
It would no doubt take some getting used to but all things worth having did.
The experimentation phase also proved far easier now that I wasn't eternally chair bound.
Oh sure I could do the job perfectly well with my Servo-Arms, I already did many times over in fact, but all of my actions back then had a certain delay to them that was simply not present with the natural flow of actually being able to move around.
I still did the same work, but it was so, so much less tedious.
And as everyone knew, tedium was the death of creativity!
The third day came and before me lay a pair of finished prototypes of my new Venator Cyberlegs.
They still needed to be plated, installed, and properly tested, but for all intents and purposes I had just designed a multi-functional low-bandwith implant the corporations would be murdering each other over in the thousands.
Except my excited preparations just had to be interrupted by a sudden call on my Agent.
In my annoyance I didn't even bother looking at the caller before answering [This is Magos.]
[Still using the stupid nickname?] The grinning voice of the caller came though.
I finally looked at the caller [Rebecca?]
[Seriously?] She pouted [You didn't even save my number?]
I considered explaining myself.
On the other hand... [No.]
[Asshole.] She flipped me off through the holo, though there was no heat to it [And here I was about to invite you to shoot some gonks together.]
[Do the gonks deserve it?] I asked, mildly interested.
Finishing the legs was well and good but I did need to get out every once in a while.
And her answer came like a clarion call to my Audioreceptors [Scavs.]
[And just like that, I am in.] I said, jumping up from my seat [Where should I pick you up?]
She snorted and quickly sent me an address.
---
I barely caught the short ex-Mox yelling at someone as she ran out of a relatively intact apartment in one of the somewhat orderly parts of Northside, her visibly furious annoyance vanishing as soon as she spotted my van and quickly jogged over.
"Sup, choomba!" She mockingly saluted and hopped into the shotgun seat.
"Sup yourself." I lazily returned the gesture "Someone bother you back there?"
"Ugh." She groaned "Just my gonkhead of a brother. Fucker doesn't think I have what it takes!" She crossed her arms and huffed.
"He could just be worried." I pointed out as I started up my van again and started driving to the Scav den.
She scowled "Nah, he is just a dick."
"If you say so." I hummed "And the rest of your team?" I asked after a few moments "It is a bit weird you called me and not them."
"A girl can't call a choom over for some Scav shooting?" She asked and then looked away "They are even worse. Never give me anything actually dangerous or important. Fuckers probably just keep me around so 'I don't get killed' by myself." She mimed with airquotes.
"Well." I tilted my head "Your first move was to call in the heavy borg."
"Whose side are you on?" She gave me a glare.
"Sides?" I asked as if confused "I am just here for the show."
She snorted and flipped me off again.
Rebecca
Rebecca hid her smile at the easy banter as they approached the building hiding the Scav den.
Well, that may be giving the scum too much credit as even the outside of the fenced off warehouse was marked with signs of struggle and fighting, bullet casings and dry blood could be spotted no matter where you looked.
Then again, that might just be the usual Watson Northside charm at work.
"Alright big guy!" She put her game face on "Light them up for me."
"Ah, I see how it is. You just called me for the minimap." The scary borg said in a defeated tone.
She snapped her fingers "Get to work, Radar Man."
"But of course, madam." He droned and within three whole ass seconds her Optics lit up with the outlines of over two dozen Scavengers.
She grinned to hide her amazement, and raised her massive shotgun "Let's fuck these assholes up!" And without a care in the world, she charged into the Scav den.
The cyborg behind her sighed and shook his head, before rushing after her to make sure she didn't get shot up.
"And you wonder why they worry?" He found himself muttering.
But his words were drowned out by the roar of Rebecca's Carnage, painting a pair of Scavs on the wall while throwing her against another.
The fight, if it could even be called that, turned into a rapid blur after that, the few Scavengers not high out of their minds immediately trying to cut their losses and bail only to either find their cyberware keeping them still or simply get shot first by the looming cyborg's Liberty.
Using anything more than a sidearm on these scum would be a waste of good munitions.
That memo was completely ignored by Rebecca however, as she stubbornly kept using her oversized shotgun to overkill the soul out of any Scav unfortunate enough to end up in her way, her enthusiasm growing with each shot as she kept rushing further and further ahead without any thought for the danger.
Which inevitably ended up with her overreaching and missing a slightly more coherent Scav by a hair's breath, and having an SMG pointed at her face.
"Well shit." Rebecca cursed and threw herself to the side, knowing it would be useless without cover.
Only no painful death came, and she blinked up to reveal the Scav pointing the submachine gun at his own face while trembling in complete terror.
And Michael standing just a few steps in front of him, a cold glint in his eyes "Do you have any living victims?" He asked simply.
The Scav impossibly began trembling even more and rapidly gulped, before speaking in a thick Russian accent "N-no, all were processed."
"I see." Michael said slowly, and then simply looked away from the man, who proceeded to try and beg for his life but only managed a "Ple-" Before his own gun blew his brains out.
Like that didn't just happen, Michael looked down at her "You good, 'Becca?"
"Just peachy!" She threw him a thumbs up.
But to her annoyance, he crossed his arms and directed her with a look so utterly unimpressed she could almost taste it in the air.
"Oh don't you start too." She grumbled as she got up.
"Start what, I wonder?" He tilted his head.
She went to retort but the usual words caught in her throat.
She may not have known Michael for too long, or even a while really, but somehow she knew for a fact he wasn't trying to mock her or make fun of her.
Someone who could look Suzie Q in the eye and tell her she wasn't doing enough for her girls and more importantly, genuinely believe it, wasn't someone stupid enough to underestimate her just because she was a bit... excitable.
"Alright, fine." She groaned, shoulder slumping "I fucked up."
Getting those words out took her more effort than the entire fight.
"I don't need you to 'confess your sins' to me." The asshole just snorted at her though, unaware of her inner turmoil "Just don't pretend and we are good."
She pouted up at him and grumbled "Fucken gonk."
"Charming." The edge of his lips twitched upwards and he clapped his hands "Now, let's strip this place bare. Good fun doesn't pay the bills."
"Do we have to?" Rebecca asked.
He gave her a long look "You can go and wait in the van if you want, but I am seeing at least 8k in loot here."
And just like that she was already picking up the bits and pieces closest to her.
"That's what I thought." The cyborg snorted.
---
Rebecca waddled out of the warehouse with a metal crate barely held up in her hands, her whole body wobbling left to right as she tried to balance the weight while also not being able to see where she was going.
She was just about to drop the whole thing as the edges of it began cutting into her fingers when the entire weight simply disappeared, the whole crate fitting neatly under the crook of Michael's arm.
Too tired to be annoyed by the showoff all Rebecca could do was gasp for breath and mumble a "Thanks."
Michael didn't answer and just shoved the final box into his van, leaning in to check on everything and momentarily leaving her to her thoughts.
Not that she needed much thought for what she would do next.
Life as a merc was dangerous as hell, and here stood what seemed to be one of the few truly genuine people in Night City "Hey Mike." She called.
"Yeah?" He asked while still rustling through the loot.
"Wanna come over to my place?" She asked, suddenly feeling like fidgeting "Watch some movies?"
And of course the asshole just shrugged "Sure."
For some reason, she felt like kicking him.
-------
Admit it. You yearn for the mines.
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