章節 5: 05: I'M ON A BOAT!

It felt somewhat weird, shooting across the shadowy bay of Night City as we left Arasaka Waterfront behind us. I had been just thirteen when the NUSA stood ready to invade Night City during their Unification Wars on the Free States. Even though I was the only person on the planet at the time who knew for a fact that NC and NUSA wouldn't come to blows here, the situation was still daunting. All of us, every single living being in NC, kept getting reports on every news outlet and on every screamsheet about the literal army standing on our doorstep ready to grind down our homes and livelihoods right down to the fucking bedrock.

I remember Night City being… quiet. It was such a strange stillness. For once in its mired existence, there was no divide between rich and poor, young or old. All of us were glued to the news screen all day, every day, wondering if tomorrow all that would be left of us would be nothing more than some smoke and ash.

Ironically, the threat of annihilation made that week back in 2070 the most crime-free period in all of NC's history. Even the most hardened gangoon didn't feel much for terrorizing an already shit-scared population, not to mention how frightened they themselves were, even if they'd never admit it out loud. None who lived through it had considered it peaceful though, we never called it that.

There's nothing peaceful about feeling your heart hammer away in your throat day after day after day.

Hell, during that time the situation in NC got so bad that the fucking USSR ended up sending us humanitarian aid.

Of course, Neo-Soviets being Neo-Soviets, said 'humanitarian' aid ended up being truckloads full of weaponry, but with an invasion of the suddenly NUSA-aligned Southern California imminent, we were grateful to the commies nonetheless.

In the end, it had been Rhyne going down on his knees before Arasaka that halted the advance of the mass of Militech-branded metal on our city. 'Saka pulled up (suspiciously quickly too), planting their supercarrier right here, square in the middle of the same Coronado Bay we were now racing along.

NUSA/Militech (same difference at this point honestly) pulled back, the city was saved and within just seven years, 'Saka dominated the skyline of NC by razing a part of Watson to the bedrock and planting their Waterfront in its stead, the same area where I had handed Tanaka over to Faraday.

Now, the Arasaka hollyhock mon was so ubiquitous, you'd think they'd always been here, as if they hadn't been kicked out of Night City for well over twenty years, but instead had always kept an iron grip on their stronghold right here in the heart of Northern California.

Honestly, that was probably even true in a way: only difference was that now they were allowed to openly show their logos again.

As the skyscrapers of Arasaka Waterfront get swallowed up by the night, the spaceport shrinking in the distance, we race past the deeper part of the Bay where the mind-bogglingly large supercarrier had made its grand entrance into the city.

Being reminded of the towering mass of darkened steel that descended upon NC like a futuristic fortress causes a scowl comes over my heavy features.

Even without my out-of-universe knowledge, it had been plain to see that our near-destruction hadn't been a political conflict between NUSA and our Free State. It was nothing more than Militech trying to root out a rival company and Arasaka deigning to show up solely to protect their own interests.

Cities got fucking carpet-bombed during the Metal Wars, all because corpos wanted to fatten their bottom line and we almost got collectively wiped off the map because of a dick-swinging contest between President Rosalind Meyers and Emperor Saburo Arasaka.

It enraged me back then, it still does, but what was I to do? I was thirteen years old at the time, without my Predators and with Ma still building up her pack. I was strong, even then, but strong enough to deter armies? Not even Adam fuckin' Smasher could boast that feat.

But what I could do, was better protect me and mine and if that meant sending Militech and Arasaka at each other's throats over the cyberskeleton (without getting David Martinez caught in-between them this time) and upsetting the balance of power in Night City, then I'd happily take Ma's hammer to every gangoon, solo and fixer that stood in my way.

I'm drawn from my musings on the past as the spray of Coronado Bay lightly splashes across my broad chest. Noticing we've come all the way down the bay to where it curves around the southern part of NC, my cybernetic eyeballs manage to pick out the shore on our right (or starboard, I guess) even in the darkness of the night.

They're no Kiroshi's, but Ma certainly didn't skimp when it came to my implants, I have to give her that at least.

Even as the small boat struggles against the surprisingly turbulent waters of the bay, my gaze remains fixed on the far bank, the unfinished great arches of Night City Stadium a darkened backdrop against the evening sky. Behind the Stadium lies Pacifica (left to rot and ruin after Militech's siege of NC made investors pull out faster than a customer on JigJig Street) and the Badlands beyond that, meaning that it was much darker than the bright NC to our backs on the northern side of the inlet, the Glen of Heywood shining and grand even in its squalor.

It was on the southern bank of the river (appropriately named Coastview), in the shadow of the unfinished colossal Stadium, where the second fixer operated who I was planning on flatlining, preferably personally. Sure, it had just been in a game back in my old life, but even so, I don't take kindly to people shooting me in the face after pretending to be my friend. And considering Goro kept V from ever getting proper revenge on Dexter DeShawn for their short-lived death (klepping his iconic Plan B from his rotting corpse just didn't give the same satisfaction), I figured I'd finally get it myself this time around.

Still, as tempting as it was to get my claws on the fat fucker, plans for taking down another fixer would have to wait for the fall-out of taking out my first fixer to finally die down. Annoyingly, it would mean giving Dex the chance to try his doomed attempt at muscling in further on Pacifica which, up until this very night, had been Faraday's turf.

Nominally at least, considering the stuck-up four-eyed freak barely ventured any further south than Vista del Ray after he'd made it to the big leagues a long while ago. He likely hasn't even set foot in Pacifica in years. Explains why the Haitian community there is so self-sufficient, relying more on the Voodoo Boys rather than NC biz. Probably the exact reason why Dexter got his ginormous ass burned trying to shoot down roots in that autocratic shithole and why Mr. Hands (real name Wade Bleecker, currently a dissatisfied high-ranking Petrochem corpo) had such difficulty arranging an audience for V with the gang operating in his own turf.

Hmm, I wonder if Faraday contracted someone from within the VB's squatting in Pacifica to crack Tanaka's ICE? Unlikely, probably, considering even Faraday must know just how insane the Voodoo Boys' netrunners are (very good, sure, but also very insane), so he likely wouldn't offer them highly sensitive top-tier intelligence that could unleash the Fifth Corpo War if handled… indelicately.

Still, unlikely as it was, it nevertheless felt nice to fantasize Maman Brigitte getting her brain melted out of her nostrils once Tanaka lit up like a Christmas tree thanks to my little surprise gift for Faraday.

Which raised the question: who did he end up hiring? Given just how shit life in NC was, I could make an educated guess, but since we raced down past the docks of Downtown and Wellsprings, Faraday's hide-out far from view as we made a beeline towards the bend along Pacifica's Coastview, I don't actually know what happened to the fixer.

Tearing my gaze away from the abandoned Stadium, my eyes land instead on a slim figure standing a little further back in the getaway boat I had prepared.

Speaking of…

"Sasha." I intone, my deep rumbling voice easily carrying over the thrumming of the ship as it cuts through the Coronado Bay's troubled waves, motioning the cute netrunner over to my side.

She looks a bit miserable, but whether that's an after-effect of having to root around Tanaka's depraved mind or because she hates being out on the water (taking her cat theme to its logical conclusion apparently) I can't really tell.

Bit of both, probably.

When the netrunner stands beside me, arms hugged closer around her slim waist and shoulders pulled up against the cutting wind as we race across the bay, I immediately begin questioning her.

"Any news on Faraday?" I press, urgency in my voice, getting a nod from the 'runner as she pops her bubblegum.

"Looked into some trustworthy Media, mostly people Regina Jones used to run with before turning fixer. They're saying Trauma Team got scrambled to the north-east of Heywood, somewhere on the border between Wellsprings and actual Corpo Plaza. Looking out on Corpo Plaza, but not actually in it, still within Heywood territory: for all his wealth, seems like your pretentious fixer never actually made it out of the slums to abandon the rest of us." Sasha grinned, before shrugging.

"Nice place though: high-rise, penthouse on the top floor, but not a Megabuilding, fancier than that. Definitely Faraday's pad. Trauma Team got into a huge firefight apparently." Sasha said with a vindictive little grin.

"But?" I rumble and Sasha's grin disappears as she shrugs once more, a pink bubble of gum popping before she answers.

"I'll need time and better gear than this fucking boat if you want me to breach Trauma Team's database and see how they did. Pretty sure they managed to retrieve Tanaka, but no idea if they'll be able to save him."

"Save him? That Microgenerator should've turned him into cooked BBQ, there shouldn't be anything left to save."

"Eh, you'd be surprised. Sure, we normal humans are a lot squishier than you, but Tanaka had Platinum coverage. 3 to 5 minute response time guaranteed, fastest in the world. With a body that fresh, 'Saka hospitals can do miracles, even with a corpse."

I let out a non-committal growl at that. Tanaka surviving was… well, not ideal. He hadn't seen my face, but then again, the rest of me was pretty distinctive too, easy to point out in a crowd even in NC. Additionally, he was the one that got the idea of marrying David's natural chrome-resistance to the demanding cyberskeleton, thus being directly responsible for the ginormous shitshow that loomed large over the events of the Edgerunners anime.

So, all in all, bad news all around for the good people of Night City (namely, me).

However, he only got the idea after seeing David punching his son's lights out at Sandy-speeds and the only reason why David installed that Sandevistan in the first place was because his mother died following an Animal drive-by.

I couldn't be a 100% certain whether or not that gig had been the one I had taken on myself instead, but I was reasonably sure. After all, James Norris had very publicly committed suicide by MaxTac only a few days ago (which meant Jimmy Kurosaki likely had already publicized the Luitenant-Colonel's gruesome death on an XBD for all to experience), so the timing was right. If I was correct though, then that meant Gloria and David would be coming home safely today and the Sandevistan… actually, what would happen to the Sandevistan now that Maine was one of my Predators?

Hmm, something to look into. I'm sure as shit not gonna give it to Maine, that would see him running head-first into a charged M-179 Achilles round straight through the brain literally faster than a man could blink once MaxTac got a bead on him.

… Could I run it myself? Chrome isn't solely responsible for cyberpsychosis, I know that better than most (nobody else here has ever even heard of a 'Humanity stat' after all), but replacing your spine with a metal bar that slows down time sure doesn't fucking help. I've seen how my Ma changed after she replaced her spine (her ramblings about me leading a new race of Man into a glorious new age of dominion over the earth increased both in length and in volume) and it doesn't bode good things for me neither. Given how… unique my life already was and me losing my sanity (or Humanity stat, as it were) was a very real risk that I couldn't just dismiss out of hand.

A being like me, going cyberpsycho? With a Sandevistan to boot?

Fuck Militech, I'd likely raze Night City to the ground myself, before getting put down like a rabid animal by every MaxTac, NCPD, Militech and 'Saka officer they could pull from active duty.

Not the way I want to go, not the way I want Maine to go, and sure as fuck not the way I want David to go.

Hmm, best if I got on the Sandy-situation asap then, before Gloria unwittingly places the chrome in the wrong hands (or worse, in her son's spine). I wasn't sure what I'd be doing with it yet: all I knew was that, if I kept it away from the Martinez' household, David would be fine and fly under Tanaka's radar even if Arasaka's doctors managed to turn the fat corpo's burnt crisp of a corpse into a (semi-)healthy body again.

And should Tanaka Sr. squeal to 'Saka counter-intel about his corponapping, well, realistically there wasn't anything he'd be able to tell them that counter-intel wouldn't be able to figure out by themselves eventually.

So, again, Tanaka potentially living was sub-optimal (any corpo of his kind surviving was always sub-optimal in my book), but hardly the end of the world.

No, there was someone else who I was much more concerned about.

"Faraday?" I question my cute netrunner after a few seconds of contemplation.

"No signals have come from Faraday's pad and his huscle that were away at the time haven't received any new orders as far as I can tell. Doubt they even know Trauma Team dropped onto Faraday's head, at least not yet. Whatever went down, a story's gonna break about it, soon too with the amount of bodies that dropped. No way to verify that story though: I don't know the full scope of Faraday's contacts, if I did, I'd be the new second-best fixer in all of NC, but things seem quiet. For now at least."

I glance down at the lithe woman from the corner of my eye.

"So. Dead? Or merely lying low?"

Sasha pops her bubble gum again and shrugs, but I can see the worry in her eyes, those neon-pink rings around her irises bright in the dark of night.

"Honestly, Sim, I just don't know for sure. Not yet."

"Can you find out?"

"In time, hopefully, yes. Won't be easy: our best bet is looking at the 'Saka Retrieval Team report and whoever handles the clean-up of the bodies in the penthouse. That'll take a while though."

"Then keep on it."

"Will do Sim."

"Oh, and… Sasha?"

"… yes, Simba?" she asks, looking up at me with wide eyes, her black metallic fingers tight around her slim elbows.

There's a certain… charge in the air, heavy with expectation.

"Can you keep an eye on the hospital databases? Wanna know if one Gloria Martinez was admitted today."

"Oh… Who, uhm… Who's Gloria?" she stammers a bit in surprise, blinking those beautiful eyes of hers as she stares up at me in slight bewilderment.

"Just… a Santo local. Figured I want to know how she's doing. She's… important. Got a kid she's gotta take care of." I respond vaguely, not exactly lying but sure as fuck not telling the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me cyberpsycho-killing MaxTac.

What? I'd like to see you try and explain the situation any better!

"… uh, right. Yeah, no, sure. I can do that." My netrunner responds, sounding disappointed for some reason.

She huddles in a bit deeper on herself, appearing even more miserable as the wind keeps frantically tugging at her pink jacket and tussling her silken hair. Acting before I can even consciously think about it, I take off my Predator-themed flak-jacket (donned again with pride following my meeting with Faraday) and wrap it around Sasha's slim shoulders.

Despite being just a flak-jacket (and thus missing essential parts in its construction like, say, sleeves) it's large enough on her frame I can sort of wrap it around her like an impromptu poncho and the thick materials prove a good isolator against the harsh winds and cold sprays.

It's only while I'm making sure the jacket covers her properly that I realize our positions and just how close I'm looming over her, our torso's nearly touching and with an embarrassed cough I step away from Sasha, worried I overstepped her bounds.

"Right. Hope that helps. With the cold, you know? … right." I manage to get out (without stuttering even! Small victories Simba, small victories) fighting down my blush.

Sasha is still standing ramrod straight in shock and I'm already cursing my forwardness in my mind when she suddenly gives me a small smile, accentuated by the vents in her cheeks which almost look like whiskers on her feline features.

"Thank you, Simba. I appreciate it." She says, before turning away from me.

Right in that moment, the boat hits a particularly large wave, rocking the deck and Sasha lets out a surprised 'oop!' as she stumbles back into me, my form tall and undisturbed by the sudden motion of the small ship.

"Oh, sorry! Haven't gotten my sea legs yet, I guess." She says with an easy laugh as my thick arm shoots around her like lightning and holds her up at my side, offering her stability which I'm almost dead certain she doesn't need.

I've seen her leap from cylon to cylon with almost literal cat-like grace, I'm surprised she lost her footing… oh. Ohhhh…

"It's no problem. Really." I rumble in a low voice, even as I keep my arm where it is, looking straight ahead, my eyes piercing the night and locked onto the approaching lights of Arroyo.

I'm very determinedly not looking down at the 'runner at my side: foot-in-mouth syndrome is a lot more serious when said foot is the size of a small dog and said mouth is filled with shark-like teeth.

"Thanks again." Sasha says, in a softer voice than before and like me not moving from her spot, standing huddled at my side and shielded by my giant form from the wind and spray.

In that moment, as we race towards the docks of Santo, I honestly couldn't care less about whether Tanaka or Faraday lived or died: as far as I was concerned, tonight was a good night.

Sadly, it had to come to an end and after what felt like far too little time, my cybernetic eyes managed to zoom in and spot the hulking forms of several Animals standing on one of the more abandoned piers of Arroyo. I recognized a couple of them from Sasquatch's large pack, and I found my worries ease somewhat.

Even if Faraday had realized his betrayal before Trauma Team's and Arasaka's Retrieval Team's arrivals (unlikely, considering his huscle was still non-active according to Sasha) then he'd need to raise a small army if he wanted to take revenge on me while I was surrounded by my people.

He couldn't even sic said 'Saka squad on my ass either, considering he had nothing to offer them for it in exchange. Meredith had been more than happy with all the evidence she needed to put a bullet in Gilchrist's head (considering I knew he was Militech's mole, contacting him for some off-the-books gigs and then turning those over to the corpo woman had been easy as pie) so getting the cybersekeleton as well was just icing on the synth-cake as far as she was concerned. Stout got everything her little corpo-heart (or whatever she got implanted instead of one) could desire, so Faraday literally had nothing to offer either party anymore.

Without corpo back-up and the majority of his huscle murdered by the life-saving medics of Trauma Team, even if the four-eyed fixer had survived the night, he couldn't touch me here on my own turf.

Even so, best not to linger. Just 'cause shit hadn't blown up in our faces tonight, didn't mean things couldn't still go off the rails somewhere down the line 'cause we got arrogant and sloppy, so I signalled both crews that we should ditch the boat as quickly as possible and get ready to delta.

Barrett was our skipper and he expertly lined up our boat to the docks, Dominic and Shannon leaping out from it onto the harbour in order to moor us. Dominic just jumped with a grunt, like a large beast descending upon its prey, but Shannon leapt nearly two meters straight up, arms stretched and legs held together as she performed a picture-perfect somersault and landing on the toes of her feet near-silently beside Ma's stunned looking Animals.

Like I said: ninja. So cool.

As the other Animals helped to secure us and my crew began offloading, Tiny Mike was struggling with an equipment crate, so (with some sadness) I moved away from Sasha and stalked over towards the ex-solo.

Without a word, I take the crate from him with one hand, grabbing it by the handle and tossing it straight into the open arms of an awaiting Animal (who nearly got taken clean off his feet by the impact with a surprised 'oomph!').

"Well, that's just showing off." The merc grouses with a shake of his head, but I merely chuckle.

"No, that was just efficient. This is showing off." I reply with a toothy grin that caused Tiny Mike to blanch.

Before he can ask what 'this' is, my hand shoots out once again, grabbing him by the back of his flak jacket and bodily heaving him out of the boat like I did the crate, throwing him into the waiting arms of another very surprised looking Animal, this one nearly bowled over as well.

Seeing this as a sign of sorts, Benedict and Vasili hurriedly scramble out of the boat as well, though Sasha leaps from it with near the same grace (if not the sheer height and speed) as Shannon, proving that her earlier 'stumble' was indeed an act.

Dwelling on that realization does funny little things to my stomach and we've still got shit to do tonight, so I push it down firmly, glancing away from the lithe netrunner and instead looking towards the final member of my crew, who tugs excitedly on my pant leg.

"Fuckin' launch me Big Guy!" Rebecca yells with a huge grin and I can't help but chuckle in response as I sink to a knee, an enormous clawed paw held out open towards her.

Tongue peeking from the corner of her mouth, 'Becca moves a bit away from me, before taking a running start and jumping right onto the palm of my hand. The moment her sneakers hit my rough skin, I rise with a smooth motion, twisting my hips and throwing out my arm like a pitcher. Rebecca gets (in her own words) "fuckin' launched" as she shoots several meters up and towards the docks. She flails for a bit in mid-air, before tucking into a ball (helped by her enormous poofy jacket) as she describes a smooth arc over the craned necks and baffled looks of my crew and rolling over her shoulder as she lands onto the docks, springing up with raised hands and an enormous smile splitting her white-pinkish face.

"Tada!" she crows to the enthusiastic applause of Sasha and Benedict and the stunned silence of everybody else.

With everyone disembarked, I bend my knees and with superhuman force I push off. Aged wooden planks splinter beneath me as a spray of water bursts upwards, capsizing the boat as its nose dips below the waterline, violently pushed down by the force of my take-off. Dark waters eagerly flow over the deck and into the small hull of the boat as it gets dragged below the surface in a mess of foam and violent waves as I blur towards the docks, landing with such weight several of the people stumble from the sheer force of the impact.

It's silent for a moment as I straighten from a crouch to my full, immense height, towering over the assembled people. Behind me, with a final splash of water and the groan of wood and metal straining under the sudden pressure, the boat sinks completely from view into the dark depths of the Coronado Bay, now just another ruined wreck amongst dozens rotting in NC's waterways.

Less dramatic (and therapeutic) perhaps than setting our vehicles and Faraday's gear on fire, but just as effective at covering our tracks, and I grin in satisfaction as a stunned silence descends over the group, their eyes transfixed on either my gleaming teeth or the turbulent waters behind me, before it's broken by the disappointed shout of Rebecca.

"Man, why ya gotta steal my thunder like that?!"

"Can't help it, honest: I'm just that awesome. It's a natural born thing. Ask my Ma if you don't believe me."

"Fuck… that's true."

One of Sasquatch's Animals manages to shake off his stupor as he steps up closer to me, handing me a stack of papers. A screamsheet I realize, taken from a vending stall very recently judging by the timestamp at the top of the cyberpunk equivalent of a newspaper.

"We got spotted? Already?" I growl, feeling somewhat anxious, but the Animal tips his hand (lined with huge metallic blocks passing for knuckles) back and forth.

"You? Yeah. Didn't spot the target tho." The Animal rumbles as he indicates a section on the screamsheet and my eyes widen.

"Well… at least the diversion worked, I guess." I mutter, glancing at the grainy picture.

Whoever the Media was that slapped this together, they had some preem access to NCPD databases, as the pic was seemingly pulled directly from the surveillance cam of the Hella I'd exploded.

It showed the back of our awful looking Supra, Dominic and I standing shoulder to shoulder in the cramped minivan, him firing his grenade launcher and me firing my Problem Solver, our heavy features accentuated further by the muzzle flashes of all the weapons being discharged.

Standing in between us and looking like a child or a midget stood Rebecca, her maniacal smile full on view since she'd taken her balaclava off before the NCPD jumped us, her Guts barking in her hands and looking both ridiculously oversized and exceedingly deadly as she seemingly fired it straight at the surveillance cam.

"Fuck." I muttered under my breath.

Sure, I was glad that it did seem that neither the NCPD nor the Media reporting on the explosion knew about the involvement of B-Team and C-Team: thankfully there was no mention of Tanaka and just a short notice about congestion on the main road from Santo Domingo into Heywood due to a broken-down truck.

Unless the NCPD were smart enough not to publicize that knowledge of course. Many of 'em weren't exactly the brightest bulbs of Night City (gotta be a bit dumb or touched in the head if you wanna be a cop in this shithole), but dismissing their knack for tactics and fuckery was a quick way to find yourself in a box.

Whether that box had bars on the front or was buried six feet under, well, that depended entirely on your views about going out in a blaze of glory, and what the arresting officer had for breakfast that day.

Still, even if they really didn't know about the true target and purpose of our heist today, I wasn't pleased. Having the identity of one of my Animals exposed like that, for all of Night City to see? That could definitely cause some problems down the line, secret corpo-napping or not.

"Bad news, Sim? You look like you got some bad news." A voice speaks up from somewhere down around my hip.

'Speak of the tiny murder-Devil…'

"I'm sorry, 'Becca."

"What?" the small woman asked hesitantly, yellow-red eyes wide as they locked onto my troubled expression.

"Seems like they know who you are now." I simply state, handing her the screamsheet and tapping the picture of her laughing face with my long, curved claw.

"I… I can't believe it…" Rebecca slowly said in a hesitant voice.

"We'll figure something out, don't worry-"

"I can't BELIEVE IT! I'M FUCKIN' FAMOUS!"

"… what."

"Take that Pilar, my face is on all the screamsheets! Who's a fuckin' legend now huh? Hahahahahaha!"

For a moment, our group stands in silence as we stare at the cackling woman, Sasha's thoughtful voice pitched low at my other side.

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it…" the netrunner mused as I sighed, dragging a paw down my face.

"Alright folks, let's delta. I want to be back at HQ before dawn breaks. Stay alert, keep your head on a swivel and Rebecca, I swear on my Mom, if you don't stop laughing right the fuck now, I'm gettin' the duct tape again."

We made our way back to HQ without further incident, beyond 'Becca rubbing her newfound fame in her brother's face. Literally too. She just ran up to the unsuspecting techie, took the screamsheet from her pocket and slammed it into her brother's face hard enough it sent him to the floor.

"HA! Fuckin' take that choom! You owe me a 100 eddies!" the small woman crowed in victory, before getting angry at her brother for ignoring her and not paying up.

I wisely refrained from telling her that might've been because he was unconscious, spindly arms splayed wide and legs pointing straight up. Best not to ruin her big moment, I feel.

Even so, despite the quiet of the night and the safety of our HQ, I slept fitfully and was up with the coming of the dawn the following day. I was getting antsy. Whatever happened to Faraday, dead or gone, waves were bound to already be spreading throughout Night City's underworld. The biggest threat to a fixer was another fixer (if you didn't count me, that is, which they never did) and so all of 'em kept a close eye on everyone else. If Faraday's contacts were suddenly cut off and his huscle unpaid, someone was bound to take notice.

My money was on Wakako to be honest. She was sneaky like that. Sure, Rogue was good (literally the best in fact, if you were to ask about 70% of NC's Edgerunners), but she had a lot on her plate and the corpo-loving fixer rubbed her all the wrong ways thanks to her own past, so she wilfully turned a blind optic to much of Faraday's operations. The other fixers had their own turf to deal with, most of 'em further removed from Heywood as well, so it would likely take a little while for things to reach their ears. Regina Jones was closest and a good investigator from her time as a Media, she might have useful intel too.

Hmm, I'll have Sasha keep working the Trauma Team angle, see if she can't breach their database to get a look at what went down on that penthouse. In the meantime, I can stick to some good ol' fashioned, boots on the ground, legwork: track people down, ask 'em a couple of questions and smack 'em around if I don't like their answers.

I'll have to smack a bit (or a lot) more careful-like than usual when it comes to Regina and Wakako if I want to keep my cover as just a dumb Animal though.

Especially with Wakako.

The other fixer with potentially useful intel was Dexter DeShawn, since he was undoubtedly already sniffing around Faraday's former turf. I wasn't exactly keen on talking to him though for obvious reasons, unless said conversations involved a lot of screaming "oh god, why god whyyyy!" on his part.

Maybe throw in a couple of "ah fuck are those my fucking guts?!" in there as well and count me a happy man.

That being said though, while most edgerunners in need of intel will almost automatically default to crawling to a fixer, I had a noted dislike of 'em and so I had been pursuing other avenues of information-gathering during my criminal career.

Which led me to the literal avenue I was currently skulking around in, sticking to the deep shadows casted by the towering high-rises on either side. It was a back-alley in the southern part of Heywood (and as such I was very grateful for the mod that allowed me to shut off my sense of smell), right on contested turf between the Valentinos and 6th Street.

My eyes are fixated on the back entrance of a BD Shack and with good reason: the door suddenly gets slammed open as a gonk runs out with panicked breaths, the cries of "Halt! STOP! NCPD, fuckin' STOP!" coming from within the shady store.

"Fuck you pig!" the man roars back over his shoulder in glee and triumph, which was very, very stupid on his part.

'Cause now he didn't see my waiting arm until the very last second. I had to crouch quite a bit to perform the clothesline, but man was the expression on the gangoon's face fucking worth it as he suddenly smacks throat-first into my forearm.

Between his reckless speed and my enormous strength (my arm doesn't even budge), the young Valentino's feet leave the ground (and his shoes leave his feet, what is it with youngsters and not tying their shoelaces anymore?) as he hangs almost horizontally in mid-air for a moment.

A simple downwards push of my forearm slams the unfortunate gangoon back onto the dirtied concrete hard enough he ends up almost folding in half, his knees hitting the concrete besides his head. Right as the Valentino lets out a pitiful, choked off gasp as the pain finally catches up with his circs, the NCPD 'pig' in question rushes out the open doorway as well, surprisingly without a weapon in hand. As demonstrated when they ambushed my team yesterday, the NCPD has a (somewhat justified) fondness for shooting first and asking questions never.

This particular piggie is cut from better synth-cloth though, which is why I've spent so many years building up a close and meaningful friendship with the man-

"Oh, fuck, it's you. What the fuck do you want this time Mr. Rose?" the tired voice of River Ward rings out across the backstreet as he slumps against the doorframe, the choking and gasping Valentino on the ground all but forgotten as River's one eye stares tiredly at my grinning form.

Well, our friendship is a work in progress.

"Please stop smiling so much, you know how much those teeth freak me out."

… a lot of progress.

Ignoring River's tired complaints, I bend down, roll the Valentino on his stomach and grab him by the back of his Valentino-styled pozer jacket, lifting him clear off the ground with just one hand and dangling him in front of River like a kitten caught by the scruff of the neck.

"Ah come on, don't be like that! Here, got you a little something! As fresh as they come!"

"I usually prefer to catch them myself you know."

"I know, I know, but we ain't got time for that right now." I dismiss with a wave of my hand, before casually tossing the insensate Valentino right in River's arms, the unsuspecting Detective falling back into the BD Shack with a startled 'oomph!'.

Heh, never gets old.

"Why?" River mutters angrily from beneath the sprawling Valentino as he tries to get both himself and the breathless gangoon back on their feet again.

"Why don't we have time, or why did I smack you in the face with a gonk?"

"Yes." River grits through clenched jaws, causing me to smile even wider, before peeking down the length of the dank and darkened street, focusing back on the prone detective with a far more serious look on my face

"Not here."

"Then where?" The detective asks in an exasperated tone as he finally manages to drag the unfortunate Valentino up as well, slapping some cuffs on the youngster who still seems quite out of it (he's praying to Santa Maria in slurred Spanish and keeps asking us if we got the numberplate on the lobo that ran him over).

Getting smacked in the throat with an arm thicker than your thigh would do that to a fool, I suppose.

"Hmm…" I briefly ponder, raking my claws through my thick sideburns as I think the cop's question over.

My eyes idly slide over towards River as he stares up at me with a resigned expression as a grin slowly stretches across my face, my glinting fangs making the hardened cop visibly shudder a little bit.

"You hungry? I'm thinking burgers."