Fixed the early bits of the previous chapter to flow better, made Mike's thoughts about mortality a bit less edgy and dramatic, as well as his reaction to the news. I also reordered the end so the assassination happens after Mike returns home, as him hiring Kimigawa and her getting there and finishing the job faster than he could cross a tenth of a district in his van made absolutely no sense in hindsight.
A bit of a word salad there so to make it short, just go give it another look :P
Do it now!
With that most mighty of notes finished, enjoy the chapter!
The Mother
She felt some small amusement bubble over her worry as she watched Rebecca begin to pace around irritably while she and her son remained seated, calmly going over the situation in their heads.
"Bunch of fucking assholes..." Rebecca grumbled angrily and kept stomping and muttering before looking back at Mike "There's a bunch of gonks trying to smear you, why the hell aren't you pissed?"
"Oh I'm plenty annoyed, you can bet on that." He admits after a moment "But this... attempt just isn't that panic worthy."
"You have an idea about what is going on?" Svetlana asks, she had some of her own but she'd bet her little genius probably already had it all figured out.
"Its a probe." Mikey explains as Rebecca shuffles closer, curious "They are trying to feel out my response before deciding on their actual plan. Or at least that is by far the most likely scenario."
"What else could they be doing?"
"Well its either they are poking me to see what I'd do." Mikey shrugs "Or they are just that incompetent."
"You're not worried about the news bullshit at all?" Rebecca blinks.
"We are in Night City." He grins slightly "An up and coming local business owner massacring anyone trying to touch his workers is a bonus not a detriment. Most of the comments on the initial report are just laughing at the strommers for being dumb enough to come at me... Or shitting on the reporter."
"Bitch deserves every bit of it." Rebecca scoffs.
"Maybe." Mikey shrugs "No point getting pissed at her though, its not like she decides what she says."
Rebecca's face sours at that fact "True."
Svetlana smiled for a moment and asked "So do we simply let things slide for now and wait for their next move?"
"No, passivity is almost always a bad idea." Michael shakes his head seriously "A response needs to be made, both with the 'strommers and the media. I've already contacted Hernan for the latter, and while the gangoons' implants were scrubbed of most of their data, I was still able to track them back to their base."
Rebecca perks up "We going to fuck them up or what?"
"Yes, we are." Mikey grins and hops up, his eyes flashing gold for a brief second "And I've just got the location. Let's go!"
---
Michael 'Magos' Sobronov
[Ready.] [Got the gonks locked in!]
Hearing them sound off I nod, send my own confirmation, and burst into motion.
The side doors of the old fuel plant blast off their hinges as I shoulder check the rusty barrier, rushing in inside with my shotgun raised, and my mag charged with EMP rounds ready to knock out a couple of the goons for interrogation.
But as I moved in for the kill I found myself holding my fire, more out of sheer dumbfounded confusion than any real mercy, as the small clump of Maelstrommers I'd thought were too busy beating the shit out of each other were really just splayed out across the small office space I'd detected them in, high off their god damned minds.
And at least three of them were familiar.
[Hold fire.] I say while managing to hide my tired sigh, and step inside.
Thank everything I had the ability to disable my olfactory senses, because the sheer amount of vapor inside did not look all too inviting.
Still, I walked in confidently, and plopped my ass down on the empty couch across the drugged up cyborgs, the noise not alerting them in the slightest.
Optic twitching, I quickly hacked the leader's detox implant and flicked it on, making him jerk up in surprise some ten seconds later.
"Hello, BoomBox." I say with just a touch of fake cheer.
The Maelstrommer's Optics glitch a few time before he wakes up fully, moving to stand up before halting completely as he realized who he was currently sat across and he gulps "Well shit."
"Apt." I agree.
Before I can say anything else he raises his hands non threateningly "Whatever the fuck happened, me and my boys had absolutely nothing to do with it!" A few of his chooms make annoyed noises at the volume but remain unconscious.
'Curious.' I don't dismiss the claim out of hand and lean in, focusing my Optics to scan for microexpressions that would indicate any sort of lie "And why would you think something happened?"
"Its obvious, isn't it?" He waves a hand in my direction, relaxing slightly and tossing back a bottle warm beer that was left open next to him and cringing at the taste before speaking again "CogFist gets a supply of nova ass glitter out of nowhere, brags about it like a complete gonk, and then a day later NC's own Mini Smasher himself stomps in looking like he's out for blood. Sounds like paid suicide by Magos to me."
"And you just happened to get here a few hours after he decommissioned himself?" I ask slowly as I consider everything he'd said.
'Easily expendable gangoons, means they have reliable contacts to get them. Glitter, untraceable if they aren't complete incompetents, unlike money. And to top it all off, they hired someone who was known for bragging, letting the loose ends tie themselves off if he came back... Or am I giving them too much credit?'
"Told you already, the stupid fucker bragged and we decided to take the glitter before he got back." He shrugs as if to say 'What am I supposed to do?' "Its preem product, why let it go to waste with a gonk like Cog'?"
[Deceit appears... highly improbable.] Logos pings me after a moment.
"Look, big man." BoomBox raises his hands as he notices me remain silent "We aren't stupid enough to try this shit with you. Most of the Strom do whatever the fuck they want a bunch of the time, you need any help from me to prove I'm not pulling your cords? I'll do it. No questions asked."
'Getting a bit desperate there.' I note with a small amount of disdain, though mostly understanding of his perspective.
"No need to go that far." I raise a hand to stop him from offering more, and find myself completely unsurprised as Logos informs me everything in and around the building had been scrubbed clean of usable data about eight hours ago "Just tell me, did any one of yours see who got in contact with CogFist? Any clue that would be useful?"
He almost sighs in relief before tensing up again "Eh, about that..."
"Did you or did you not?" I repeat with narrowed Optics "It isn't a complex question."
"We did, yeah." He reassures quickly "Its just that... Well, I sent poor ole' Jimmy here to track them, and he did see some doughboys driving off." He cringes "Buuut, trusting that BD fried smoothbrain to explain anything... Well, you're honestly better off not bothering."
Letting out a slight snort at this I stand up "He has Optics, he has an Agent. I don't need his brain, just his eyes."
"Ah. Right." The strommer snaps his fingers "You sure you can get through those Optics? The cogheads got pretty good at making them hack proof-"
"Already inside." I inform him bluntly as I hold back my disgust at the coating of sweat around the unconscious Maelstrommer's Neuroport.
[Watch my back.] I signal to my team, and dive into the memory bank.
Diving through the sheer amount of porn and saved BDs on the repeatedly expanded personal data storage would have probably left anyone less skilled and focused scarred beyond repair for the rest of their times, luckily I ended up only a bit traumatized by the time I managed to dig out the recording of last night from the auto-recycled optics data and quickly got to analyzing everything.
Jimmy's point of view was pretty distant, and the quality of the recording meant I couldn't just jump between other recording hardware, but it did let me zoom in pretty close. Say what you will about Maelstroms' propensity for inhuman Optics but they had their use, and worked well for their usual price. Well, not counting the usual process of installation that is.
The armored vehicle had no identifiable traits but the model was easily identifiable as Chevillon 620 Emperor Ragnar, something definitely not available to your casual random on the street.
I watched the recording further, observing the familiar face of the psychotic Maelstrommer whose face I'd introduced to open air surgery mere hours ago as he traded with a group of four heavily armored, and notably unmarked corpo soldiers, eagerly grabbing a crate of what I guessed was the high grade glitter and telling them something while grinning like a lunatic.
The four rats showed no notable reaction and merely packed up and left the moment the goon made some distance, driving off into the night and disappearing from Jimmy's sightline.
Whoever was going through all this trouble definitely did not want to be identified this early on in the operation, and preferably never, if they had any grey matter in their heads.
And they would have managed it for the most part if not for the fact I'd spent a good few of the recent nights on the net familiarizing myself with the clandestine forces the bigger corps tended to use in preparation for something like this.
The information cost me a pretty ennie, but it was already proving worthwhile.
The shape of the armor and what little cyberware I could identify with Jimmy's Optics indicated Militech Spec Ops. Not their cream of the crop, but definitely assets considerably above the usual corpo trooper in terms of ability.
But was that all a double bluff? Was someone trying to point me at Militech while obscuring themselves? Or was I overthinking things again?
Reputation or not, did they really know I warranted that level of paranoia?
Regardless of the truth, Militech had enough reasons to at least dislike me or want me outright killed depending on how informed they were on the events of the Zurich debacle.
Which meant my only option was to treat the situation as if the megacorp was looking to take me down until facts verifiably proved otherwise.
Ignoring the pooling of both dread and excitement in my cybernetic gut, I disconnected from the personal Agent to find BoomBox sitting in the exact spot, and holding the exact pose he did when I first connected.
A good three minutes later.
His sense of self preservation was impressive, or outright miraculous when one considered his gang.
Which meant I gained nothing from ending him "I've got what I came for."
He exhales in relief.
"However." I add, making him tense up "You say a word to anyone, about anything-" I trail off leaving the implication hanging.
"Insides, outsides, pain." He chuckles darkly and salutes "You got it boss man."
"Good." I step away from the pile of human filth under me "I will leave you to it now, there is work to be done."
"You're just gonna leave us the glitter?" He blurts before his mind can catch up.
I shoot him an unimpressed look.
His expression strains and he lets out an awkward chuckle "Gonk fucking move, Boom." He mutters before meeting my Optics with his own "I won't forget this, Magos. Both the glitter and not scrapping our asses when it was easier. You need anything done, anything at all? I'm your man." He points a thumb at his chest.
"I'll certainly keep that in mind." I nod and extract his contact details "Try not to die in the meantime."
"No promisses." He lets out a nervous chuckle and I leave him to it.
---
Rebecca was pretty pouty when I told her that no, she couldn't snipe every gangoon in the building for kicks, but both she and mom turned dead serious when I relayed my conclusions to them on the way back.
The fact whoever was targeting me was not going right for the throat was a relief for the most part, it meant they didn't have the resources to simply have me removed, but it also meant the probes would most likely continue.
Which gave us some time to prepare, even if the exact amount was undeterminable.
Rebecca immediately threw herself back into work, keeping her skills as sharp as possible as in her own words she wasn't really a planner and would more than happily just smash the gonks whenever they decided to pop up.
Mom on the other hand took the threat with far more gravity than either of us, spending most of her time, even while at work, studying up on any reliable military tactical information or training chips I could purchase through my contacts, and spending the rest actively planning out scenarios while getting into contact with the first few squads Mason had managed to collect.
They would take a couple of days longer to get their asses moving, and a bit more for me to replace their lifestyle chrome with something actually useful in combat but at least they were already proving themselves by giving solid advice even if they had no idea about what was actually happening.
They also helped me come up with a proper non-cybernetic loadout for them. No sense in forcing them to use weapons they weren't competent or comfortable with, at least until I started my own production line.
On my own end, I concluded that any amount of planning for a conflict without defined lines was a waste of time that could be used far more productively, and so I redoubled my efforts in the development of my new frame, deciding on a final design within two days, and starting fabrication within three.
Gloria was pretty shaken by everything when she was informed, but I found my faith in her rewarded when she did not for even a second consider backing out. Sure, the money was good, but I knew the woman always prioritized her family above all else.
To have her stay as a matter of course was... good.
It was Wednesday after work hours when I finally got the call from Mason that the first two squads were ready for their surgeries, and I confirmed them for tomorrow evening, getting a quick agreement from Gloria for some extra hours minutes after that.
But that was not the most important bit of communication I was having, as I found myself 'strolling' a secluded corner of the local NC net, with Logos in a fresh metallic serpentine form coiling around one of my 'arms'.
I sent an encoded signal out, and a moment later the familiar silhouette of B@D appeared in front of me, her stance shifting to one of surprise as she looked at Logos.
"Awww, what happened to the puppy?" She half whines, none of the usual interference meant to prevent identification present in her voice.
[I left many traces in Zurich.] The snek responds [And dendrites are cool.]
She shifts her stance in confusion and then shrugs "Well so long as you are happy, lil' guy."
"So." I say after a moment "What do you say?"
She shoots me an annoyed glare for rushing her before sighing "You sure are asking for a lot here, Mike."
"I'm not forcing you into anything." I raise a placating hand "But I am also offering a lot. Think about it, you get access to all the fun corpo-grade gear I'll be getting my hands on, and keep getting access so long as you stop anyone else from poking their noses where they don't belong." Tilting my head and smirking to myself, I add "And the paycheck is a neat addition too I suppose."
"True." There is a smile in her voice as she agrees but then she hesitates, shifting on her 'feet' "Still, I don't know... Just the idea of signing on for something like this... it feels weird."
"Because most corps are shitholes." I shrug "But I'm not offering this just to use you as a meat shield. You are my choom, Mary. You watch my back, I'll watch yours."
"And I'll make sure you don't OD on all the stuff you keep jabbing yourself with." I add a moment later, earning myself a glare.
"Alright, fine!" She throws her hands up "I'll be your damn Dweller. Just don't expect me to stick my neck out when they start throwing AIs at you."
"Happy to have you onboard, B@D." Chuckling I pat Logos "And I'm sure feeding yourself to an AI will be unnecessary."
"Yeah right." She huffs.
"Onto less terrifying topics!" I clap my hands "What kind of setup do you want?"
She tilts her head in surprise "I thought you wanted me to bring my own stuff over?"
"Of course not." I scoff "That's your private gear, this is company owned stuff meant to keep my dirty rat secrets from the other rats. But since you just agreed to be the first operator, I'm giving you carte blanche to design it, so go wild."
She seems stunned for a few seconds before her body starts twitching, quickly followed by the sound of the deranged giggling of an obsessed maniac who'd just got access to all the toys they could want.
Which was about what I'd expected.
---
An hour later, after managing to stop my slightly unhinged colleague from spending the Night City budget thrice over, I found myself looming over a bit of plating meant for my internals, nodding in satisfaction before inserting it into its proper position above the Nanoforge.
"So." I spoke over the holo "You finally have a solution for me?"
[My apologies for taking so long, sir.] Hernan Guadalajara calmly inclines his head [I gave the situation a lot of thought, and quickly realized that just paying for some ads would have been like throwing mud at the wall. So I decided to look for something bigger, and pull on some old contacts.]
"What do you have for me, Hernan?"
[A talk show.] He says after a moment [Nova TV, fifth biggest distribution in NC on friday evening. We agreed on almost all the points but I need your approval for the last bit. Do you want me to go? Or do you want to face the crowd yourself?]
"And what do you recommend?" I ask without looking away from my work.
[It should be you to start us off.] He says immediately [They are curious about the 'massacre' and that will draw eyes, which is the perfect chance to advertise what we do.] He places a hand over his heart [I can do it myself without complaint, of course. But if you want the greatest impact you have to put yourself out there, at least in the beginning.]
Frowning internally I find no real reason to refute him despite my urge to refuse him out of hand "You are probably right." I say after a few long moments "Tell them I will be coming."
[Understood, sir.] He nods deeply [I will make all the arrangements, and make myself available for planning when you aren't busy. There is much to go over.]
"Very well. Thank you Hernan." I nod back and end the call.
Intent or not, 'putting myself out there' sounds like a great way to get shot. A foolish idea in the current situation, to most minds.
Most minds were limited by the flesh they were encapsuled in.
Why bother worrying about gunfire if you could just make yourself immune to it?
Needlessly cracking my fingers (though the noise was more of a groan than a crack) I got to work finishing my frame.
Indeed, you have waited long enough. Big upgrades next chap.