Chapter 11: Lonesome
Two hours.
That's how long I trained before I left the gym, the time split somewhat equally between boxing and taekwondo. Were it not for the meeting to get my ownership of the penthouse sorted, I'd still be in the gym going to town on the bag.
God knows I wasn't the slightest bit tired after that workout. It was the opposite actually. I was pumped, and I wanted more. Sadly, this was important. That's why I was here ten minutes early, leaning on my car as I had my first proper meal.
The XXL Burrito had been heavily edited in the system, changing it from the utter atrocity the nearby vending machine spat out into something suitable for a human's taste buds.
Takemura was right.
Night City food was absofuckinglutely disgusting. My respect for the people who lived here once again, experienced another leap. There were a plethora of reasons for the city's hellish nature, and this slop called food was definitely one of them.
Shaking my head at the utter absurdity of it all, I bit down on the modified burrito, tearing a huge chunk out of the wrapped roll of goodness. The distinct tastes of cheese, bacon, beef, and chicken exploded like fireworks on my tongue.
I shut my eyes and threw my head back, almost moaning as I tried to slow my chewing so as to savor the taste. Unfortunately, I had underestimated my body's desire for sustenance.
Even with the Super-Soldier Serum running in my veins, I still needed food. It didn't create energy out of nowhere… I think. I distinctly remember that all mutates in the Marvel universe, even Captain America, were connected to some extradimensional source of energy.
But that's besides the point.
I had been running around doing all sorts of stuff and engaging in all manner of activity without even a drop of gas in the tank. Needless to say, I quickly whittled down the bomb burrito, reducing it to the mere crumbs on my fingers.
With my cheeks swollen and mouth busily working on the rapidly diminishing remnants, I looked over at the vending machine stuck between a dumpster and a building, contemplating if I should go for another round.
I quickly brought up the interface to check the time when one of the many cars passing by slowed and parked in front of mine. It looked like a limo but not entirely, lacking in the absurd length department.
Out of the driver's side door stepped a man bigger and taller than I was. The brown suit hugging his tower-like frame did little to hide and rather accentuated his space marine stature and the weapon—no, iron, he was carrying.
He moved to the other side of the car and opened the door with his meaty hand.
As whoever he was chauffeuring/ guarding alighted, I retrieved a tissue from my pocket and wiped my hands and lips clean. I then patted myself down, finding no stains or problems with my white, fully buttoned dress-shirt, fresh indigo pants, and black dress shoes.
Whenever we went to church, outings or programs, my mother always insisted and ensured that I looked the part. I didn't care for it though. As someone whose death was around the corner, dressing appropriately for church… or anything for that matter, wasn't on my list of priorities.
Nonetheless, years of the woman's insistence had stuck with me. Just the thought of meeting the realtor in a hoodie or sweatshirt with cargo pants and combat boots gave me such a strong ick I wondered if I'd somehow reincarnated with my mother's ghost.
That's why I looked the way I currently did, even though it was probably unnecessary.
Come on. This was Night City. I don't think anyone cared if you dressed anyhow. Okay, maybe not in the City Center. But here in Watson? Pfft. Nobody gave a shit.
Fully outside the car and on his feet, the man who I assumed to be Bliss Argent, stood behind his bodyguard as they both assessed me for different reasons. I didn't try to get close. I just remained where I was and waved.
"Hey there. Bliss Argent?"
"Mr Bishop?" The tall, lanky man said, the lack of emotion in his robotic voice a bit off putting.
"That's me."
A pair of cold silver eyes met and held my gaze for a seeming eternity before breaking away. The owner of said eyes moved his gaze to his huscle and gestured with a shake of his head. The mountain of a man turned sideways and fully exposed Mr. Argent to me.
He wore a grey business suit that fit snugly against his pencil frame. His hair and shoes had the same grey, making him look as though he'd taken a dip in a can of grey, silver paint.
He gestured for me to get closer, a directive I promptly executed. A few steps forward and I stopped in my tracks, the outstretched arm of the bodyguard halting my advance.
But my attention wasn't even on him. Faint clicking sounds echoed on the semi-quiet sidewalk as Mr. Argent opened his suitcase . Inside it lay a silver shard, a datapad and some other device I didn't recognize.
While I was wondering where we were going with this and if there was going to be a tour of the residence, he grabbed the shard with his right and the pad with his left.
He extended the latter towards me and said, "Since you informed me you'd be paying with a credchip, I made the proper arrangements."
Keeping my expression impassive as it's been since the beginning, I grabbed the tablet and eyed Argent and his bodyguard one after the other, making them aware of my eagerness to escalate in case of any trickery.
I fiddled with the device and found the card slot without much problem, slotting in the credchip with the most amount of eddies. With a few taps, I paid the 75,000 eddie cost and signed the ownership contract after reading it over twice and receiving no hint from Spider-Sense.
With burgeoning excitement, I removed the chip and passed the tablet back to Argent. The silver-dipped man swiped on the device's screen with his silvery gloved hand for nearly a minute before looking up at me, his features morphing into a slight smile.
He passed the shard to me and said, "The house is yours now Mr. Bishop. This is the authorization shard. It'll give you access to the elevators and all the relevant systems. Thank you for subscribing to Ezestates."
Unwilling to slot in the shard in front of him, much less do so before checking it in the system, I clutched it and smiled. "Thanks. I'll be going now."
Eager like a child about to unwrap a Christmas gift, I did not expect to be stopped when I turned to leave.
"Mr. Bishop. One last thing. We have to make your ownership of the residence official."
He reached into the still open suitcase and grabbed the device I didn't recognize. He unspooled a cable from it and connected it to the tablet.
"Night City law requires that every citizen who owns property record their address on their SIN chips. This is to allow the police to do their jobs effectively, though many consider this to be a major breach of privacy. If you are of like mind, this process can be waived for a small fee."
A small sprout of incredulity tried to bloom within, but I stomped and crushed it. This city would not take me by surprise any more.
Argent just presented me with two options; you don't pay, your address goes on the city's most corrupt organization's list or you pay and it doesn't.
The choice was obvious, though I entertained the notion of not paying just to play it out and deduce the possible problems with that decision.
I immediately just thought of how easily anyone hostile to me could find where I laid my head. The tingle in the back of my head triggering and coinciding with this thought was the nail in the coffin.
Even Spider-Sense agreed that not paying was a bad idea. So, I gave Argent the extra eddies and resisted the urge to roll my eyes when his demeanor turned cheerful.
Corpos were not soulless after all.
I waited until the tail lights of his car vanished into the distance before getting into mine. Once inside, I started it and drove to a parking garage I'd scouted earlier, all the while checking to make sure the chip had no nasty surprises.
After confirming that everything was a hundred percent and paying for the parking, I left the garage with two duffle bags and returned to where the meeting went down.
Unlike before, I didn't stop and went straight for the elevator, glancing at the vending machine and licking my lips. I could still taste the fireworks. Finding no reason not to, I bought three more large burritos and stuffed them in one of the bags.
I then focused on the elevator and used the access key granted by the shard to unlock it. The double doors slid open with a hiss and I stepped in like I owned the place.
The smell of garbage and other whatnots disappeared like the wind when I chose the topmost floor as my stop and the doors slid back shut.
The low hum of the elevator and my accelerating heartbeat were all I could hear as I ascended. It felt like I was in there for hours, but I knew that wasn't the case. It was just the near overwhelming excitement that made it seem so.
After thirty or so seconds, the lift slowed and came to a stop. The doors slid open and I was greeted by a whole new environment, the dirty street and swathes of vehicles, neon signs, and people all gone.
In their place was a large, clean space, within which expensive looking furniture and appliances had been arranged and positioned fittingly. I stepped into the mansion and closed my eyes, taking in a deep, long, satisfying breath.
Like every lawless and overpopulated city I'd heard of in real life and in fiction, Night City stank to high heavens. It smelled every bit as bad as New York City was described, but multiplied by a factor of 10, no 20.
Luckily for me, the overstimulation wasn't overwhelming despite my enhanced senses. I could just tune it out, bringing the feedback I received from my nostrils down to a manageable level.
This changed the experience of moving about the city from dumpster diving to just walking by an open one. Up in this new place though, there was no dumpster. The air was crisp and clean.
Letting my excitement flow freely, I opened my eyes with a smile and dropped the bags where I stood.
I looked to my right and found the kitchen, a place I had little to no experience in. It would probably be one of if not the place I used the least in this house.
Still working off the "I own a penthouse" high, I went about the house and explored every inch of it. The living room, the bedroom, the office… I perused them all, offloading appropriate items from my inventory into each.
Next stop was the outdoor space.
Using the same access key, I unlocked the door and walked onto the parlor, instantly spotting the plants and lounge chairs. I circled the house and found a pool and more of these chairs.
They were placed at various spots in groups of two or sometimes the lone one, all of them guaranteeing a good view of the city should they be indulged in.
Shaking my head, I returned to the section of the parlor where I exited the house and climbed down the stairs nearby. The sun rays hit me as soon as I got off the last step. I looked up to the sky and found a sight that was quickly becoming normal and familiar.
The sky was blue alright, however a hazy and almost imperceptible filter of yellowish brown had been draped over it, ruining what would otherwise be an amazing view. I wasn't going to let it sour my mood though.
Just like I explored the house's interior, I did so in its exterior. The few trees and large patches of grass drew out the skeptic in me, and the benches and additional lounge chairs drew out the pauper.
Is this how rich people lived?
I could see how such a luxurious life could lead one to lose touch with reality. I mean, I had a heli–no, AV pad here. If I ever came into the ownership of a flying vehicle, I would have a place to park it.
I would have multiple in fact. The outdoor space was quite big, about two or three tennis courts big, give or take. This was unbelievable. Rich people really did live in a different world.
Resisting the urge to shake my head for the umpteenth time today, I went back into the house, eager to distract myself with the amount of work that needed to be done.
It would take some effort to transform the penthouse, beautiful as it was, into a home. There was some unpacking and setting up to do. I also needed to buy some much needed toiletries and more clothes to fill my limited wardrobe.
All this and the other hundred tiny things I needed to do would serve as good distractions from the fact that I was alone.
For the first time in my life, my parents, grandparents, sisters, cousins and friends were nowhere in sight. I had all this money and other amazing stuff, but I had no one to share it with.
In fact, owning them made me miss my family more. Because I'd never be able to show them around this house, take them for rides in my car, or even show them that I could walk or accomplish impossible feats with my improved body.
Plopping down on the couch beneath the holoprojector, I let myself slump and looked at the spinning, rectangular projections, my mind worlds away. A part of me wished I was back in my old world. Back with my parents.
However, the more I thought about it, the more I found this part of me diminishing further.
My old life was over. It had run its course. My family was probably still grieving and would not stop till they kicked their own buckets. I knew that because I missed them too, and I would not stop doing so anytime soon… or ever.
The day I wouldn't want to see them again did not exist.
I was hundred percent sure if they knew of my current circumstances, they'd want the best for me. They'd want me to be happy. To live life to the fullest and chase my dreams. So I was going to do exactly that.
And so to reality I returned, blinking to regain my bearings and also do away with the stubborn tears. Nodding to myself, I kicked off my shoes, unbuttoned the top of my shirt, and leaned into the cushion with a tired breath.
I needed a minute.
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