David Martinez

  It didn’t take us long to get to the drop point. The client had already contacted Regina, and when Jackie spoke to her, she directed him to leave the stash at a local spot she pinged, not far from Megabuilding 10. As we walked with the duffle bags, my mind kept going back to the moment I shot the Maelstrom. It all seemed so... easy. I just pulled the trigger without hesitation, a simple plan to close the distance and take him out. The Lexington’s a low-caliber piece, and the Strom was armored, but somehow I knew exactly where to hit him.

  But when I looked down at his lifeless body, I didn’t feel anything. There was no rush of satisfaction, no sense of justice—nothing. It was like squashing a bug. The apathy confused the hell out of me. I’ve never felt that way about anything before. I should’ve felt something. But all I cared about was the eddies.

  Jackie told me the guy had it coming, but that didn’t even register. I didn’t care about the reasons. I just wanted to get paid.

  We reached the drop-off point, and Jackie took care of the deal. I just played my part, looking as tough as I could with the Lexington still in my hand. I glanced down at myself and noticed some blood from the Maelstrom on me. It would probably help with the intimidation factor, I guess.

  “All good, hermano?” Jackie asked as the guy finished counting the stash.

  “Everything’s here,” the guy said, handing Jackie a credchip. “Now, make yourselves scarce. You’re not needed anymore.”

  Jackie didn’t say much. He just took the chip, flashed his usual grin, and slotted it into his sockets. His eyes glowed blue for a second before he removed it and handed it to me. I slotted it in and watched as the credits hit my account. Not a bad day’s work.

  “There you go. You did good, kid,” Jackie said, giving me a pat on the back. “If I got something that needs two, I’ll call you.”

  “Sure, here’s my contact,” I said, flashing him my number before giving a wave.

  And just like that, I was alone again. Left to think about what I’d done today.

  How could I do everything so perfectly, even though I'd never done it before? How was it so easy to come up with a plan, aim without hesitation, and not even feel the Lexington’s recoil? It made me feel powerful—like I was untouchable—but at the same time, it didn’t feel like it was me doing any of it. Ever since Vomi used that pathogen on me, things have been… off. I’m sharper, faster, more pragmatic, but it doesn’t feel natural. It’s like someone else is behind the wheel, and no matter how much I try, I can’t shake the feeling.

  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts as I wiped at the dried brown blood staining my shirt. It didn’t help much, but it was better than nothing. Grabbing the first bus heading to Arroyo, I figured I’d be home by nightfall.

  As I sat down, the city greeted me with its usual sensory overload—flashing ads on posts and screens, cars decked out in holographic billboards. Some of the products were things I liked, others not so much. Instinctively, I reached into my pocket for my phone, only to freeze when it wasn’t there. A second later, I remembered these weren’t even my clothes, so my phone is still at Vik's.

  Nova…

  I sighed, letting the wind from the open window brush against my face. The past two days had been a chaotic blur, even by Night City standards. Between Vomi, the pathogen, and these… memories, Vomi's memories, nothing made sense.

  Vomi isn’t who she pretends to be. I put two and two together, and yeah, she’s hiding something. And now, thanks to her, I might be turning into whatever she is. The pathogen might’ve saved my life—made me stronger, faster, smarter—but what’s the cost?

  Before I could spiral any further, the bus’s PA system cut in.

  “Due to recent shootouts, public transport service will shut down. Warning—”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I muttered.

  The driver pulled over, telling everyone to get off. His relief was obvious; he probably wouldn’t have to deal with this chaos for a while. I, on the other hand, had to figure out my next move. Stepping off the bus, I caught sight of a glaring anime ad and immediately looked away.

  That meant taking the train. Ugh. I hated the train—always full of pretentious corpos flaunting their chrome and suits, acting like they owned the city. It’s hard not to feel like a nobody around them, especially when the train stations run right to the entrances of their fancy offices. Once, 6th Street even tried to mug me there. Another time, I got beaten so bad I was covered in my own blood.

  Wait… I’m yapping.

  I killed someone today. My first kill. Then I started analyzing my own body, and now I’m ranting about corpos? What the hell is wrong with me?

  I glanced around and realized I was already at the train station, paying the fee to get in. Wait, how did I get here? I didn’t even notice myself moving. My body acted on its own, following some internal objective. This wasn’t normal.

  I boarded the train and sat down, trying to calm my nerves. Just breathe in, breathe out. But it wasn’t working. My awareness of everything around me was overwhelming—every sound, every movement, every detail about what people were carrying. I could even sense the credchips in some passengers’ sockets, almost like they were calling out to me.

  Wait what?

  It's her.

  It was the same girl I’d seen near Arasaka Academy—pastel-white hair with colored tips. She was moving through the train, catching credchips as they ejected from unsuspecting passengers. Her movements were flawless, smooth enough that no one even realized they were being robbed.

  No one except me.

  I stood and moved to a quiet corner, one I knew wouldn’t attract attention. If my instincts were right, she’d target me soon enough. I’d already transferred my eddies to my account, so I made myself the perfect bait.

  She worked her way through the crowd, swiping chips from corporate gonks in suits or loaded with chrome. Then, as expected, she made her move.

  She walked past me, pretending to ask someone a question. I felt the subtle tug as she triggered my shard to eject from its socket. She reached to grab it, but just as her hand closed around it—

  CATCH.

  “Got you,” I said, gripping her arm with the most bored face I could do.

  My speed caught her off guard, and for a split second, her eyes widened in shock. She must’ve thought I had a Sandevistan or a Kerenzikov installed—honestly, with how quick I reacted, I’d probably think the same. But her surprise vanished almost instantly, replaced by a calculating look as she sized me up from head to toe.

  Then she tried to spin me around by yanking me to her side.

  It was, without a doubt, the most awkward and unintentionally hilarious thing I’d seen all day. My frame—now bulked up and solid—didn’t budge. Instead, she ended up awkwardly grabbing and crumpling my mom’s old jacket like she was trying to wrestle a brick wall.

  I clenched my jaw, trying not to laugh, but it was hard.

  “Are you done?” I asked, my voice on the verge of cracking from suppressed laughter.

  She glared at me, clearly irritated but undeterred, and tugged on my sleeve. “Follow me.”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I think we could profit more by working together,” she said, still gripping the jacket like it was her ticket to convincing me.

  “Working together on corpo pocket change? Hard pass.” I pried her hand off my sleeve, brushing her away. “And by the way, I already transferred the eddies to my account. You can keep the empty shard.”

  That caught her off guard. She stared at the shard in her hand, confused. “But that’s… How?”

  I turned my back to her and sank back into my seat, done with the conversation. I wasn’t interested in making a scene—I just didn’t want to deal with her trying to rob me again. My focus drifted back to my own biz. Rent needed paying, and the building’s owner wouldn’t wait forever. Mom always prioritized my education over the roof over our heads, but I had to keep both in check.

  My eyes fell to the cyberware hidden inside the jacket. A Sandevistan. Military prototype grade, no less. I already figured it was valuable, but a prototype? That made selling it way more complicated. I didn’t even know anyone who could pay what this thing was worth.

  The girl was still standing there, staring at me like I was some kind of alien.

  “Need something?” I asked, not even trying to hide my irritation.

  “I asked you twice already,” she said, her frown deepening. “How did you cash the eddies off that shard?”

  “By putting the shard into my socket?” I replied, my tone somewhere between confused and annoyed.

  “With a daemon in it?”

  “With a what now?”

  She sighed and sat down beside me, clearly deciding this conversation wasn’t over. “A daemon is a program Netrunners use. It can handle a lot of tasks if the person who coded it knows what they’re doing.”

  “And?” I gestured for her to continue.

  “This shard had a daemon. It would’ve installed a backdoor into your chrome, Biomon, and optics. But…” She paused, her tone turning suspicious. “You’ve got nothing. Your systems are as clean as a blank slate. So I’ll ask again: how did you do it?”

  Shit. Jackie must’ve dealt with the daemons first since he had the shard before me. “Maybe the guy before me wiped it clean,” I said casually. “Or maybe he’s the one carrying them now.”

  “Or he deactivated them temporarily and reactivated them before handing it off to you,” she reasoned, her words making an annoying amount of sense.

  But that didn’t sound like Jackie. At least, I didn’t think it did. I barely knew the guy.

  “Well, even if I knew the answer, I wouldn’t tell you,” I said with a shrug, leaning back in my seat. My gaze wandered to the window. “You just tried to rob me, remember?”

  “Or maybe you’ve got chrome that helps with quickhacks,” she mused, ignoring my dismissal as she studied me like I was some sort of experiment. “I wonder what kind of updates Arasaka gives their golden kids.”

  “I’m not Arasaka. Never will be.”

  “But you study at their academy,” she shot back, as if that explained everything.

  Her digging was getting under my skin. She wasn’t as slick as she thought. I stood up, deciding I’d had enough. I didn’t need her questions following me home.

  “Enjoy your empty shard,” I said over my shoulder, walking away.

  I didn’t get off at Santo Domingo like I planned, but it wasn’t a big deal. My megabuilding was within walking distance, and I could use the exercise. Besides, I hadn’t really tested how fast I was outside the gig.

  Maybe now was a good time to find out. I started running, curious to see just how much speed I could manage.

  The moment I started running, it felt different. My legs moved with precision and efficiency, like they were operating on some finely tuned system I didn’t even know I had. Each step landed exactly where it needed to, the rhythm seamless, almost automatic. I wasn’t even pushing myself, but the world around me blurred slightly at the edges.

  It didn’t take long to realize just how fast I was. Faster than anyone I’d seen outside chrome-jockeys running full-speed with military-grade chrome. But the crazy part? I wasn’t even winded.

  The city lights zipped past, neon streaks reflecting off glass and puddles as I bolted down the sidewalk. People barely had time to register I was there. A few muttered curses followed in my wake, probably from someone I bumped or startled, but I didn’t care. I just kept running.

  It wasn’t just speed either. My reaction time was razor-sharp. A drunk guy stumbled out of a bar directly into my path, and I sidestepped him without thinking, narrowly avoiding a collision. My body was moving like it had rehearsed this a thousand times, even though I knew it hadn’t.

  By the time I reached the megabuilding, my head was spinning with questions. What the hell had Vomi’s pathogen done to me? Sure, I felt powerful, but it wasn’t the kind of power I could just chalk up to training or luck. It felt… inhuman.

  I slowed to a stop, my breathing steady, heart barely racing. I glanced down at my hands. They looked the same as ever, but they didn’t feel like mine anymore. The things I’d done today—the kill, the fight, the awareness on the train, and now this—it all pointed to one conclusion: something inside me had fundamentally changed.

  As I walked into the building, my mind churned with unease. Was this power worth it? And what price was I going to have to pay for it?

  Weird how even though these things that would normally make me feel empowered are just making me feel uneasy.

  The more I learn, the less I like it.

  I decided to skip the elevator and take the stairs, hoping the walk would help clear my head. Each step felt heavy, my thoughts weighing me down. By the time I reached the floor where the building manager’s office was, I spotted him stepping out. Convenient timing, considering I’d never actually spoken to the guy in person before.

  I gave him a quick nod, expecting him to keep moving, but he locked eyes with me and walked over.

  “David, right?” he asked, arms crossing in a way that immediately felt confrontational.

  “Yeah, that’s me,” I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

  “What’s going on with you and your mom?” he said, cutting straight to the point. “I’ve been calling for days, and no one’s answered. You haven’t even been at your apartment.”

  “Got in a car crash,” I said, keeping my hands stuffed in my pockets. “Spent the whole day at a Ripperdoc in Watson.”

  “The Tyger Claws’ turf?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you guys nova?”

  “As preem as we can be,” I said, shaking my head. But since I was already here, I figured I’d address the real problem. “So, uh… how much is overdue on the rent?”

  “You’re three months behind,” he said bluntly. “Why?”

  “I can cover one month right now,” I offered, pulling one hand from my pocket to give him a thumbs-up. “That should take the eviction off the table for a bit, right?”

  “You better pay it right now,” he said, already pulling up the payment request on his device.

  I checked my account, sighed, and accepted the request. That was all the eddies I had for now.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Done,” I said, trying not to let my frustration show.

  He gave a slight nod. “All right, but don’t make me chase you for the rest.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, heading off before he could start a lecture.

  As I walked toward my apartment, the realization hit hard: I was barely scraping by. Whatever this newfound strength and speed could do, it wasn’t going to fix the reality of living in Night City. Not unless I found a way to make it work for me—and fast.

  I step into the apartment, the neon lights from Night City bleeding through the window like a damn reminder of how fucked I am. Eddies. I need eddies, and I need them fast. The real bitch is figuring out how.

  First option: Jackie. I could hit him up for gigs. On paper, it sounds alright, but let’s be honest. If Jackie’s still grinding in his thirties and hasn’t made it to the big leagues, then all I’m getting is table scraps. Selling XBDs for Doc? Sure, steady pay, but it’s nowhere near enough to cover even a fraction of what I owe the academy. And the kind of gonks I sell to don’t have the eddies to pay the full price anyway.

  Then there’s the prototype chrome. Yeah, no. Selling that is asking for a bullet in the back. Working with the gangs in my area? Even worse. Associating with them would fuck me long-term and short-term since that chick already clocked me as an Arasaka student.

  That leaves one last option. And it’s a shitty one.

  Vomi.

  She’s got gigs—dangerous ones—and from what Lev said, there’s real cred involved. Problem is, Vomi’s the one pulling the strings. She’s the one in with the fixers, and if I want a piece of that action, I’ll have to go through her.

  And let’s be real: I don’t think she’ll help me unless I’ve got something to offer her first.

  Oh, fuck.

  I just remembered—I walked out of the clinic without being discharged.

  Shit.

  Well… fuck it. I’ll deal with that mess later. Right now, I’ve got bigger problems to handle.

  It’s late, so I guess I’ll just sleep and—wait. Sleep? Do I even need to sleep?

  I pause, trying to tune in with my body. I don’t feel tired at all, even though today was the most physically intense day of my life. No exhaustion, no hunger either. I’ve got food—well, noodles—but I don’t feel like eating. That’s… weird. And a little scary?

  And then it hits me: I haven’t gone to the bathroom either. No piss breaks, no nothing. That’s not normal.

  “What the hell?” I mutter to myself.

  It’s freaky, yeah, but… also kind of preem? I always hated having to stop gaming to take care of my basic needs. But now? No bathroom breaks, no stopping for food, no annoying hunger cramps. Nice. If I didn’t have to bathe, it’d be even better, but hey, I’ll take the wins where I can get them.

  Alright, fine. I’ll take a bath and get some rest. Might as well throw on my Academy clothes and prep for another day in Corpo-ville.

  The next day…

  “Martinez, you are still not in compliance with the Academy’s dress code,” the holo-teacher announces, her disapproving tone cutting through the silence of the classroom.

  Yeah, no kidding. My new frame has made the uniform practically skin-tight. I already filed a request for a replacement, but that’s gonna cost me more eddies I don’t have. The jacket still works, though, which is probably the only reason they let me in.

  To keep things low-key, I tried baggier, more comfortable clothes over the uniform. So far, no one’s called me out on the extra bulk from my muscles, so I’d say mission accomplished.

  “Well,” I reply with my best corporate tone, “I was involved in a car crash yesterday during an altercation with a gang and… a senior corporate associate. I apologize for the inconvenience. However, I’ve already submitted a request for a new uniform.”

  The holo-teacher scans my response, her expressionless face barely flickering. “Very well. Given the circumstances and the verified report of your incident, we will allow you to remain in alternative attire, provided it adheres to Academy standards.”

  “Understood,” I said smoothly before heading to my seat.

  The class stares daggers at me. Their judgment is practically searing my back. To them, a Santo kid getting a free pass on something as sacred as the dress code is sacrilege.

  Whatever. Let them glare. I’ve got bigger shit to worry about.

  I finally did something I should’ve done from the start: got myself a new wreath compatible with the Academy’s updates. How? I swiped one from a fancy-ass store on my way here and configured it during the trip. No big deal. Ran into the shard thief again on the train, but I ignored her. She keeps her distance, I keep mine. Simple.

  Now here I am, sitting through class.

  Surprisingly? It was engaging. The VR simulations made it way more entertaining than the usual boring-ass homework modules. Today’s lecture covered three topics: researching resources for your biz, making connections, and defending your assets from attacks.

  The first topic—researching resources—had a ton of options. Most students picked the obvious safe route: sending scouts to scope out new territories or technicians to dig up tech. Predictable, and honestly kinda redundant. The least popular option? Doing the work yourself. Naturally, I went with that. If I’m gonna build a rep as a merc, I need to learn how to handle shit on my own.

  In theory, the steps were simple enough. In practice? A goddamn nightmare. For a moment, I considered backtracking, but I stuck with it. Katsuo, of course, was running his mouth about how lost I was, but I ignored him. It was kinda exciting, figuring things out for myself. Sure, sending someone else might save time, but if you want something done right, you do it yourself. I made a mental note to really dig into the theoretical basics before applying any of this in the field.

  The second lesson was about making connections—simple, but critical. The focus? How to speak with confidence, even when you’re weak, and how to appear vulnerable when you’re actually at your strongest. We also covered reading body language, interpreting subtle cues, and negotiating. This was gold. Negotiation is gonna be useful no matter what I do, so I paid extra attention.

  The negotiation scenarios were wild. They ranged from basic one-on-one talks to negotiating under the iron sights of a squad, to trying to strike a deal in a foreign country with a president or equivalent. When it came time for practice, almost everyone flopped, including me. The difference? While most of the class ended up insulting their counterparts, I managed to walk away with a “we agree to disagree.” Not a win, but not a total loss either. Somehow, even when I fail, I still manage to top the results. Kinda hilarious when you think about it.

  The final lesson was as straightforward as it gets: protecting your assets. The options were clear—hire security, hire mercs, bribe the cops, or handle it yourself.

  Direct, brutal, and very Corpo.

  I, for one, chose an option that wasn't on the list.

  “May I ask something to clear a doubt?”, I said to the holo teacher, raising a hand.

  “What is it, Martinez?”

  “The options here are interesting, yes, but I also think they leave areas vulnerable.”, I said with a hand on my chin.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” One student demanded, obviously furious.

  Although I don't know why because my question will help them out too.

  “Although we don't tolerate such lexicon inside the Academy, I share his doubts.”, The holo frowned at the student, then turned to me, “Please, explain your inquiry.”

  As you wish.

  “Let's put it in a hypothetical scenario, for the sake of the argument, that the options here are taken at face value,” I began, leaning back in my chair. “Say you hire a security service. They do their job, sure, but you’re reliant on their competence and loyalty. If they screw up or get bought out by someone else, your biz is toast. Same goes for mercs. They’ll protect you as long as you’re paying, but if a bigger player comes along with more eddies, guess who they’ll side with?”

  The holo teacher tilted its head slightly, as if intrigued. “Continue.”

  “And bribing the cops?” I snorted. “That’s a temporary fix. Once the bribes stop, they either turn on you or look the other way when someone comes after your assets. Doing it yourself? Sure, that’s noble or whatever, but you can’t be everywhere at once. Plus, unless you’re packing heavy firepower and skills to match, it’s just a matter of time before someone takes you down.”

  “So what’s your alternative?” the holo asked, its tone carrying a hint of challenge.

  “I’m talking about integration,” I said, sitting up straight. “Why rely on external forces when you can make your security part of the biz itself? Hire people who own a stake in what they’re protecting. If their livelihood depends on your success, they’re less likely to sell you out. Train your employees in basic self-defense and tech security so they can handle minor threats without outside help. And instead of just paying off cops, build connections with them. Do favors. Make it a mutual relationship. That way, even if the eddies stop flowing, they’ve got a reason to stick by you.”

  The class went silent, save for the faint hum of the holo projectors.

  “Interesting proposition,” the holo teacher said after a moment. “Your approach emphasizes sustainability and loyalty, which are indeed valuable assets in long-term business management. However, this requires significant resources, both financial and temporal, to implement. How would you address that?”

  “Start small,” I replied, shrugging. “You don’t need to train an army or buy out every badge in Night City overnight. Focus on what you can do now—build trust, set up systems, and grow from there. If you’ve got the right people and mindset, it scales naturally.”

  The holo nodded, or at least mimicked a nod. “An unconventional approach, but a valid one nonetheless. Class, take note of this perspective—it highlights the importance of adaptability and innovation in a competitive environment.”

  Oh that would spark some resentment on the class, since if was me who the teacher is saying to learn from.

  Katsuo scoffed loud enough for me to hear. “He’s full of shit. Let’s see how far that idealistic nonsense gets him in the real world.”

  I tuned him out, scribbling down notes as the teacher moved on. I wasn’t trying to impress the class—I was just focused on making sure I was prepared for whatever came next. It felt like the most sensible and effective approach. After all, if you lose and the people around you lose too, they’ll make sure you stay on top. Teamwork and all that. It just made more sense.

  When the virtual reality class ended, our grades flashed across our optics, and as usual, I was at the top. Honestly, how did these corporate kids not get that working with others was the key to success?

  Lunchtime came, giving me a chance to leave the Academy grounds and get some fresh air. I made my way to a vending machine and picked a non-carbonated NiCola—just for a change. I didn’t need food, but I still enjoyed the feeling and taste of a good drink. It was actually the hottest summer on record by Night City standards, yet I felt fine. Well, at least it was important to keep up appearances.

  “So you had a car crash, right?”

  It was Katsuo. Seriously, doesn’t he have anything better to do than mess with my head?

  I shot him a glare after a few sips, my frown deepening. “What’s it to you?”

  “Your mom was in the car, right? How’s she?”

  That question—there was something off about it. A hint of malice, too much edge in the tone. I could sense it before he even spoke. Maybe I was paying too much attention to body language, or maybe the pathogen was giving me a little help this time.

  “Yes,” I said, my irritation clear, “And?”

  “Oh, I’m just concerned about the wellbeing of my peers, that’s all,” he said, his tone oozing fake pride, like he wasn’t blatantly lying to my face. “After all, from where—”

  “—where I live, it’s hard to get healthcare. Yeah, I know,” I cut him off, finishing his sentence because, let’s be real, nobody takes a guy who talks like this seriously.

  His face twisted into a scowl. “You should learn your place, scum. I heard your mom caused quite the scene, crying for forgiveness after your little stunt.”

  Oh, you do not want to start this, Katsuo. I didn’t even finish my soda, but I gripped the can so hard I could feel the NiCola dripping through my fingers.

  “And since we’re already on this topic,” he kept going, ignoring the very clear warning on my face, “how did you manage to pay for your education? Care to explain, Martinez?”

  His voice was dripping with mockery, every word designed to piss me off. And, just to make it worse, I realized he wasn’t alone. Two other guys stood behind him, each looking ready to pile on.

  “Yeah, how’d your mommy cover the bills?” one of them sneered.

  “Bet she did some pretty dirty work,” the other one added with a smug grin.

  I didn’t say a word. I just chucked the soda can at Katsuo, soaking his pristine uniform with NiCola. Then I glared, my face blank but my patience officially gone.

  …

  …

  …

  Of course, he didn’t take it well. But what he did next actually made me pause for a second. He started throwing punches—not at me, but at the air in front of me. It was weird as hell. Even weirder, though, was how slow he seemed. I could see every single punch coming, like he was moving in slow motion.

  When he finally stepped forward to close the gap, I dodged his swings without even trying. It was almost funny. Then I remembered I probably shouldn’t look too good at this, so I let a few hits land, blocked some others, and made sure it didn’t look like I was completely untouchable.

  By the time he was done, he was panting and winded, while I had a couple of bruises that barely hurt.

  Nifty.

  “You’ve got a chip slotted, don’t you?” he spat between breaths. “Strongarms 400, one of the most expensive combat chips on the market. And yet you held your own.”

  He said it like the words themselves were poison. Dude needed to relax.

  “No chips here, Katsuo,” I said, brushing myself off like it was nothing. “But let me make one thing very clear: if you ever talk about my mom like that again, I don’t care who your dad is or what the Academy will charge me for the damage—I will make you regret it.”

  To drive the point home, I turned and punched the vending machine behind me. Not the glass, but the metal frame.

  CRASH.

  That shut his friends up real quick. Their cocky grins disappeared, and they looked like they were reconsidering their life choices. Katsuo, though—he tried to play it cool. Either that, or he was hiding how rattled he really was. Either way, I knew I’d shut him up, for now at least.

  Seriously these assholes need to fuck off already.

  Vomi woke up in the clinic chair, still under the lingering haze of the heroin-like substance she’d been experimenting with. It wasn’t heroin exactly—just some chems swapped out for alternatives, either because the originals didn’t exist anymore or were way too expensive to source. She pulled out her agent, checked the time, and realized she’d been out for an entire day.

  Vik’s desk was empty, meaning he was either taking care of a client or the place was dead quiet. Either way, she dragged herself to the bathroom, trying to look halfway presentable. Easier said than done with the hangover she was nursing.

  Once she’d freshened up, she headed out, her mind set on checking in on Gloria. If her memory of the anime was right, the woman didn’t have long—two, maybe three days left after the incident. Vomi could use the symbiote’s powers to heal her, sure, but that didn’t guarantee survival. Fixing her body wouldn’t change the fact that her overall health was in the gutter.

  She changed into something more formal—switching her pants and jacket for a cleaner look—and pulled on her usual white lab coat. She debated swapping out her shirt but decided against it. It had taken her forever to nail the Android 21 look, and there was no reason to mess with it now. Funny enough, cosplay was one of the few things that had kept her sane after the San Francisco Holocaust. That, and the people she met during her journey back to Night City.

  Why had she even come back to this city in the first place? She hadn’t been sure at first, but a few weeks ago, the answer had finally clicked. That’s why she was building her small criminal empire here, right under the city’s nose.

  Still, she owed a lot to The Refused. She’d fought tooth and nail to preserve the rights to the songs they’d written. Not that she went around acting like they were hers, especially since the tracks she played were just cover versions of the originals. Profiting off them would’ve been a dick move, and the part of her—the male part—still inside knew that.

  She kept the name, the logo, and the music. Unfortunately, she’d had to record and sing every track herself. That was its own kind of pain, an emotional gut-punch every time she tried to recreate the good moments she’d shared with the band. Reliving those memories was tough, almost unbearable.

  But that… she couldn’t think about that right now. She couldn’t face it. There was too much baggage, too much left to unpack.

  “Focus, Vomi,” she muttered, slapping her cheeks. “Focus.”

  The door slid open, revealing Gloria lying on the bed. Surprisingly, she was conscious. The first thing Vomi did was check the terminal by her side—vitals, chrome stability, the whole rundown. On paper, everything seemed fine, but Vomi knew better than to trust just the charts. In cases like this, there was no such thing as too cautious.

  She grabbed a syringe filled with nanobots—not nanomachines, but something more refined—and carefully injected it into Gloria’s veins. The tiny bots worked their way through her system, repairing damaged organs and jumpstarting the kidney she’d lost in the crash. Her chrome was being accepted by her immune system, but she’d still need meds to ensure her body fully adapted to the foreign metal.

  “How are you feeling, Gloria?” Vomi asked, softening her tone as much as she could.

  “Better,” Gloria replied in a strained whisper. “I’ve been through worse.”

  “I doubt it. A car crash wouldn’t do this kind of damage unless your attention was on something else,” Vomi said, shaking her head as she typed notes into the terminal, logging Gloria’s recovery progress.

  “Heh, ain’t that the truth, se?orita,” Gloria said with a wry smile. “Where’s mi hijo?”

  “David? He’s fine. The pathogen worked like a charm—no complications, no side effects. I double-checked everything myself,” Vomi reassured her, turning to meet her gaze. “Though... he’s been very enthusiastic about his new physiology.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Without a word, Vomi pulled up a video on her agent and shared it with Gloria. It showed David pulling off some wild tricks not long after waking up from the operation, all the while fully naked.

  Gloria watched, and within seconds, she was laughing uncontrollably. Until the pain from her injuries decided to cut her laughter short.

  “Funny,” Gloria said, her smile still lingering but softer now, more genuine. “The boy gets a muscular body and already thinks he can conquer the world on his own.”

  “He feels responsible for the crash,” Vomi said as she turned back to the terminal, typing away. “Vik says he’s a strong kid, but... maybe his goals are just a little misplaced.”

  “Like every son any mother will have,” Gloria muttered with a weary sigh. “Where is he?”

  “Probably upstairs, still recovering. I haven’t discharged him yet,” Vomi replied, finishing her report before walking back over to check Gloria’s vitals again. After a moment of silence, she spoke up. “Now, I’ve got a question for you.”

  “Yes?”

  “What’s a Black Market vendor doing putting her son in Arasaka Academy?”

  Gloria’s eyes went wide as the words landed like a hammer. Vomi didn’t even flinch. She knew what Gloria was about—the way she scavenged cyberware from the corpses of Cyberpsychos, solos, and Edgerunners. Gloria would grab whatever expensive chrome she could and sell it to the highest bidder. Vomi understood the motive—Gloria wanted David to get an education—but the way she went about it was reckless. A time bomb waiting to go off.

  And Vomi didn’t let up. “Your body is chronically overworked. Sure, your health is improving, but at an incredibly slow pace. You’re still walking a fine line, Gloria. There’s a very real chance you won’t survive your stay here.”

  Vomi could have softened her tone, but Gloria needed a reality check. Her sacrifices had consequences, and Gloria needed to face them head-on. What would David become without her? The anime already answered that, and Vomi had sworn to herself:

  Fuck the canon.

  “I… I don’t know what to say,” Gloria muttered, her voice quiet. “Just… don’t tell the authorities about it. Please.”

  Vomi sighed, shaking her head. “I haven’t told anyone. But that’s not the point.”

  “If it’s about payment, the cyberware’s in my jacket. I’m sure you’ll find some use for it,” Gloria said, trying to turn her neck to look for the jacket, though her injuries made it impossible.

  “I’m not charging you,” Vomi replied, standing up and scanning the room for said jacket. “You got caught in the crossfire of my gig. The least I can do is take care of you two. And I don’t want chrome that already has an owner.”

  “You can tell that too?” Gloria asked, wide-eyed.

  “Ripperdoc’s one of my many specialties,” Vomi said, her voice flat. She didn’t say it with pride—more like it was just another fact of life. “But there’s no jacket here.”

  “What? But I was wearing it when—”

  “I know,” Vomi interrupted. “I was the one who rescued you.”

  “Then… where the hell is it?”

  BASH!

  The door slammed open as Viktor barreled into the room, looking like he’d almost tripped over himself. His sunglasses couldn’t hide the concern on his face.

  “Vomi! Where’s David?”

  “I thought he was with you,” Vomi replied, keeping her voice calm despite the growing knot in her stomach. But it didn’t last. “He hasn’t been discharged yet. He shouldn’t have even left the clinic.”

  “Well, he did!” Vik barked, holding up a tablet. “And thank God you taught me the basics of Netrunning, because the kid’s using his new abilities without a second thought about who might be watching.”

  Vomi grabbed the tablet and scanned the footage. It showed David and Jackie in the middle of a shootout, handing off bags to some guy. The next clip was even worse—David walking into Arasaka Academy the next day and getting into a heated altercation with Katsuo during lunch.

  “Fucking hell,” Vomi muttered under her breath. Then, louder, “Panther, go fetch him.”

  A low growl echoed from the hallway, followed by the rapid sound of paws pounding against the ground as Panther bolted out of the clinic.

  David was in deep shit.