Capítulo 85: Chapter 26 (Part 4)
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Jeremy Martinez POV
The dark-haired man walked through the streets of Night City, his thoughts constantly drifting as he soaked in the vibrant world that had returned to him. For a long time, Jeremy's sense of touch had been dulled, his once vivid world reduced to muted grays. His implants had deteriorated to the point where the best he could manage was to avoid accidentally hurting those close to him. Even Victor Vector couldn't fully repair his body. Each rollback in functionality only made things worse, and over time, Jeremy had learned to live with it.
Replacing his implants wasn't an option. These weren't just any cybernetics — pieces of tech like this couldn't be swapped out easily. Despite their worn state, they still outperformed many of the alternatives available. More than that, Jeremy had become accustomed to them. In a way, his augmentations felt like an intrinsic part of him, a biological trait inherited from his father that allowed him to install numerous implants without damaging his psyche. It was this very trait that had enabled him to push his broken-down cybernetics beyond their limits for so long, fueled by sheer stubbornness.
He wasn't in a rush to go home. There was something he needed to do first—test out his new abilities in the real world. For the first time in years, he felt alive again. And with that newfound energy came the urge to make the streets of Night City a little "cleaner" tonight. Sixth Street controlled much of Santo Domingo, but there were still pockets where their influence was weak, places where troublemakers and outsiders thrived. In those zones, you could find all sorts of characters — none of them pleasant.
"Now, this is interesting," Jeremy muttered to himself, his optics locking onto a scene that demanded his attention.
A group of Animal gang members was beating up a homeless man in a nearby alley. Judging by the cries echoing from the alleyway, they were just looking for some sick entertainment at the poor guy's expense. Scenes like this weren't rare in Night City. The strong preyed on the weak in countless ways — sometimes through emotional torment, other times with outright physical violence.
"Time for a little warm-up," Jeremy cracked his knuckles, the satisfying metallic click echoing faintly in the night. The coat draped over his shoulders was quickly shrugged off and stashed behind a nearby dumpster — too cumbersome for what he was about to do.
His first target was a brute stationed as a lookout, keeping an eye on the surrounding area. Thanks to the mimicry system built into his synthetic skin, Jeremy managed to sneak up on the guy without being noticed, taking him out swiftly and silently. His implants gave him strength and speed far beyond human limits. If he wanted, he could punch straight through concrete, but there was no need for that right now. The Animals were nothing more than a gang of hormone-jacked degenerates, bound by a twisted code of conduct that bordered on barbarism. From a distance, it seemed laughable. But up close, when you became the target of their brutality, any sense of humor vanished quickly.
"Hey, Bertha, ease up. He's gonna kick the bucket any second now," came a low, gruff voice from the massive, gorilla-like woman who was beating a man senseless. If Jeremy hadn't seen the speaker's face, he never would've guessed it was another woman talking—one of Bertha's crew, apparently.
"Shut the hell up, Losiha, and go check on Sledge. I haven't heard that bastard make a sound in a while," Bertha grunted without even looking back.
"Goddamn it, why am I always stuck with this shit?" Losiha groaned, trudging over. "Hey, dumbass, what the hell are you doing over there?!"
The moment she got close enough to Sledge's unconscious body, Jeremy struck, delivering a devastating blow to her diaphragm, taking down another member of the "pack." A distinctive trait of the Animals gang was how they referred to their groups as "packs," paying tribute to their primal roots.
The gorilla-like woman doubled over, struggling to catch her breath, but Jeremy didn't give her time to recover. With a swift movement, he knocked Losiha to the ground and finished her off with a knockout punch to the head. He dragged her limp body over to where Sledge lay before turning his attention to the last remaining member of the group, who had just finished brutalizing her victim.
"Hey! Where the hell are you guys?!" Bertha's enraged voice echoed through the alley.
Activating his camouflage once again, Jeremy swiftly closed the distance to the leader of the pack and landed a powerful uppercut. He held back just enough not to kill her, but quickly realized Bertha was tougher than she looked.
"Got you now, asshole," Bertha snarled, grabbing Jeremy's arm and preparing to twist it at a sickening angle. But she didn't expect the sudden, immense resistance she felt.
"No, I got you," Jeremy smirked, twisting his body expertly and locking her into a painful submission hold.
"Let go, you son of a bitch!" Bertha roared, thrashing as she tried to break free.
"As you wish," Jeremy grinned, snapping her arm with a swift, practiced motion.
Her scream filled the alley, only to be cut short by a few quick blows to her head that finally knocked her out cold. Glancing down at the battered homeless man, Jeremy shook his head in frustration. His enhanced vision confirmed the worst—the man was already dead, likely from the shock of the pain.
With a sigh, Jeremy gave Bertha's unconscious body one final kick before pulling out his phone and dialing a number.
"Dean, it's Jeremy. I ran into a pack on my way, gave them a good beating. Send some guys over — I'll drop you the coordinates."
"No problem, man. We'll give these Animals a good lesson. Thanks for the help," Dean said, his voice steady.
Jeremy sighed heavily and quickly searched the downed pack for anything valuable. As expected, they carried some mediocre firearms and a stash of drugs in their pockets. Nothing surprising. The pack was small and scruffy, far from impressive. The vehicle parked nearby likely belonged to them too, but Jeremy wasn't in the mood to hack it open and search for more.
Barely five minutes after his call, a car pulled up, and Dean stepped out. The large, blonde man gave a casual salute to the merc, who was leaning against a wall, his eyes drifting over the unconscious bodies slumped by the dumpster.
"Looks like you had a bit of fun here, huh?" Dean smirked, casting a curious glance at the knocked-out gang members.
"Had to teach them a lesson. It could've been someone I care about instead of that poor guy," Jeremy replied with a shrug.
"You've got a point," one of the Sixth Street leaders nodded in agreement. "Alright, my boys will bag these punks up. Need a lift to Fourth?"
"Wouldn't mind that," Jeremy chuckled, finally pushing himself off the wall.
"Hop in, we'll get you there in no time," Dean said, gesturing to the car.
***
Arroyo, District of Megabuilding H4
"I've heard some interesting rumors about Megabuilding 4," Dean said, glancing at his companion as they drove through the streets. "Apparently, a certain place there is gaining popularity fast. You heard of the shop called 'Iron Man'? The owner's clearly a fan of old comics, wouldn't you say?"
"I was there earlier today," Jeremy replied, pulling up some promotional shots of the workshop on his holo. "It's run by a young guy and his girlfriend. Couldn't be older than twenty-three. Used to live with the Bakkers' clan. That's all I could dig up on them."
"My son got caught in a shootout between one of the bigger Animal enclaves near the arena outskirts today. His friends barely managed to pull him out. The nearest clinic was too far, so they had to go to an unknown ripperdoc. You know how risky that can be, especially here in Night City," Dean said, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his breast pocket and offering one to Jeremy.
"Yeah, black market chrome and organ traders. Been there, done that," Jeremy smirked, gratefully accepting the cigarette.
"The crazy part is, they saved my boy's life and didn't charge a fortune for it. Usually, medics in those situations bleed you dry for 'generous tips,'" Dean remarked, blowing out a thick cloud of smoke.
"They really don't overcharge. The kid fixed me up in just a couple of hours."
"Fixed you up, huh?" Dean raised an eyebrow with interest.
"Fully," Jeremy nodded. "I can't remember the last time I felt this light. The guy's a skilled tech and ripperdoc. Not saying he's the best, but I wouldn't doubt his abilities."
"Interesting," Dean muttered, eyeing the dark-haired mercenary with curiosity. "I'll tell the boys to check him out if they ever need work done. If he and his girl are that good, they won't be short on jobs."
"Thanks for the ride, Dean," Jeremy said, finishing his cigarette and flicking the butt into the nearby trash bin with practiced ease.
"See you around." Dean gave a final wave as he got back in the car.
"Yeah, take care," Jeremy replied, adjusting his coat as he headed towards the megabuilding's elevator. It was already late, and all he wanted now was to get home to his family.
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