The Gonk and The Forge (Cyberpunk Edgerunners/2077)

Chapter 14 –

Hot damn, boxing matches with Cybernetic implants in play are brutal…

It's a surreal feeling seeing somebody with his skin chipped off, metal endoskeleton exposed while still going strong against a tougher opponent purely because they're sporting an implant that's cutting off almost all of the pain from such an injury. That man would have fought his way to death, not even realizing that he'd lost enough blood to fill a goddamn bucket had it not been for the coach calling the fight.

…. I had been distracted throughout my workout. Understandably so. It was only because of Ilya that I was able to refocus and get my sets in. I was lucky that the healing potion would get rid of all the bruises he left from the short spars he forced me into for being distracted…. Otherwise I don't think I could have endured the stings and bruises I am feeling right now in the warm shower of the gym, for the rest of the day.

Still… this was a spectacle that has given me insight into some of the various kinds of combat Cyberware people are sporting around me. It's one thing to see some examples of it slotted in my friends, it's another to actively analyze it in use with my tech senses.

I …. didn't want to use that sense on my friends, honestly. This was an easier-to-accept alternative.

There was so much gear on display here, a lot of it so …. callously ingenious that it was mind-boggling. It's obvious that people get Cyberware enhancement in order to perform tasks that would otherwise be beyond normal human capabilities… or at least beyond their capabilities.

Most of these weren't solving the inherent limitations of the human body, they were circumventing them, often with brutal disregard for the consequences. Apart from the painfully direct shit like servos in joints for faster reflexes and such.

The pain inhibitor didn't heal the wounds, it simply masked them by tricking the part of the brain that processed pain, using mimicked neural electronic signals, into believing there was no damage to any part of the body, allowing the body to be pushed past its breaking point.

The task of healing was handled by the Biomonitor chipped into a nanite-infused blood pump attached to the heart, keeping track of all the vitals of the body.

The enhanced muscle tissues didn't make the bones stronger, they just risked shattering them with each blow… unless somebody had titanium bones replacing their entire skeletal structure.

It was like overclocking a processor without any heat sink – impressive for a moment, catastrophic in the long run. Which essentially necessitated getting a new heat sync, which in turn necessitated getting a stronger power supply, and so on.

Only difference being in the case of Cyberware, that meant cutting off more parts of your body and replacing them with more tech.

….. I can see why that is the case. People who want such Combat Cyberware are making these choices based on what they need and can afford. Even so, I think there is a niche in the market here for people looking to minimize those risks while still getting what they want.

I have … issues with the way things are in this city. The way people are forced to live, to adapt, just to keep surviving. It's not about making life better—it's about making it bearable.

Gangs like the Scavs exist because, for most people, fighting back isn't even an option. They aren't a problem to be solved, just another hazard to be tolerated. Same as the rising cost of synth-food, the corporate stranglehold on the economy and jobs, most of which have already been replaced by fucking robots, or SCSMs, or whatever else.

Most people are …. willing to accept that this is just how things are. That eating bug paste, worm protein, and whatever else corporations cram into food in the name of nutrients is normal. That getting their limbs replaced, skin lined with fucking titanium just to feel safer walking home at night is reasonable. That if they want to keep up, they have to keep cutting away at yourself, piece by piece, until there's barely anything left that resembles the human they once were...

The fact that even I, a goddamned outsider to this dark future, can see the reality of it all for what it is… then it's no wonder that the rebel culture is so fucking revered around here. The people would gleefully cheer on as some guy with nothing left to lose is willing to go to great lengths to stick it to the fucking powers-that-be even if they have accepted their lot in life.

But I can do better. I can make ... some difference here if I put my fucking mind to it.

I have the power now, the resources to make a real difference here… or will have the forge cover for me wherever I am lacking. If the forge continues to have my back.

What is the point of having virtually nigh infinite money, and endless fucking resources if all I do with it is hoard it away in some sterile corner of my fucking pocket dimension…

But where the hell do I even start?

There's no fixing Night City so easily. Not in the way some naive idiot might think. You can't just take down a megacorp or wipe out a gang and call it a day. The problems aren't so direct to solve as that, waiting for some hero to punch them out of existence. If it were, the people here wouldn't be in the position they are in right now. They're built into the foundations, tangled up in the economy, in corporate interests, in the fucking way people live and die here.

Rip out one thread, and the city just weaves another to take its place.

I'm not dumb enough to think I can fix it all.

But I can start somewhere. Baby-fucking-steps.

…. Gosh I am pushing so many problems into the 'mystical' future. I don't like that one bit.

As if telling me to quit bitching and move, the pressure of the Forge spikes in the back of my head. The galaxy flickers into view, vast and infinite, a constellation shifting toward my soul's core.

A single star pulses. Once. Twice.

Then warmth floods into my soul.

I run a hand through my hair, exhaling. This changes everything. No more hunting for scraps. No more salvaging second-rate junk. I can build whatever I need, whenever I need it… If I have the understanding and the skills to do so….

Why am I surprised?

The forge had already given me something similar for weaponry and ammunition already.

The Forge is basically screaming at me. "Get out there and shake the world, ya idiot!"

I exhale. Alright then…. Message received!

Looks like I'm up for another long night in my pocket dimension… hopefully, I'll have time to prepare for dealing with bloody Wakako in peace.

I shake off the excitement. No time to lose. First, I need to drop off Becca's shotgun. I step out of the gym's shower and get dressed back.

I nod Ilya goodbye, as I limp outside. He seems both disappointed, and apologetic for the state I was in as he watches me slowly make my way toward the exit, I didn't have to endure it for much longer, but he didn't know that…

There's a fight going on in the ring… the crowd oohs as a giant motherfucker with a titanium jaw and hammer arms is whaling on the smaller dude. The poor bastard's dodging for his life, barely keeping up with the onslaught of metal fists trying to put him six feet under.

He's already taken blows that would have put most others lacking the chrome protection he was sporting out cold. Thankfully, the coach seemed to be moving to call the match.

I push open the doors and step out onto the street, stretching my shoulders. The cool night air hits me, washing off the last bit of heat from the gym. I barely make it a few steps when "Hey, hermano! You leaving already?"

It's the big guy from earlier. Jackie. Walking over with the ripper friend of his, Vik.

This guy is making my bruises seem like a paper cut….

He is in a much worse shape than I am. The cybernetic in his right eye is shattered, the chrome plating on his cheek is chipped off. The bleeding is barely under control…. But he's grinning like he just won the lottery.

Well, he did win his fight, so I suppose that's keeping him in high spirits despite the injuries. Still…

I raise an eyebrow. "Err… shouldn't you be getting that sorted out?"

Jackie pauses at that, then laughs jovially, like I just told the funniest damn joke.

"Oh, this? This is nothing! Vik'll set me right in no time!" He claps the ripper on the back, nearly knocking the old guy forward. "Sides, we're gonna celebrate! We're ordering pizza! Locust Artichoke!"

…err.. what?

Jackie notices my expression and grins wider. "C'mon, don't gimme that look! It's a Watson special!"

"…I don't think special is the word I'd use."

Jackie laughs, wobbling a little but trying to seem completely unfazed. "Bah! You gotta try it, choom. You in?"

I blink. "In? For… the pizza?"

Jackie nods enthusiastically leaning on Vik. "Hell yeah, the pizza! And the drinks. And the company! We're celebrating, hermano!"

Before I can even figure out how to respond to that, Vik clears his throat and sighs. "Jackie, for fuck's sake, you haven't gotten into the Grand Prix yet, there's still two more fights you gotta clear! He's right—you need to get to the clinic." He gives me a nod. "Sorry 'bout him, kid. He gets like this after a fight. But don't worry, I'll have him patched up in no time."

Jackie waves him off, still grinning. "See? Told ya! Vik's got magic hands!"

Vik mutters, "Not a miracle worker, Jack!"

Jackie snorts, adjusting his stance, like that'll somehow stop him from leaning all his weight onto Vik. "Anyway, you in—err…" He pauses, frowning slightly, then tilts his head at me. "Uh… what'd you say your name was again?"

I never did.

"Jesus, Jack, you don't even know this guy's name? C'mon we're going back to the clinic right now!" Vik groans, exasperated and sighs, shaking his head before glancing at me. "Sorry 'bout him, kid. He means well, he's taken a few too many to his co-processor..."

I can sense that quite easily… that and a little bit of a disconnect between his central processor, and the rest of his cerebral cortex. His system's all out of whack. If Vik's confident that he can fix this up in no time, then he must be talented indeed.

I wave it off. "No big deal. I am Zain Vargas. You guys need a cab? I can call one in if you'd like…?"

Vik nods immediately. "Yeah, that'd be a great help. We're not going far, but he's in no shape to be walking all the way."

Jackie waves him off. "I could walk—"

I ignore their banter as I pull out my phone and flick through the interface, searching for the Combat Cab app.

Combat Cab was the second most used cab company in NC, right after Delamain. Based on the app, they offered heavily armored cabs to get people wherever they wanted to go, even into the combat zone of Pacifica.

I've never had to use it before—NCART was good enough back when I was getting around the city without my car. But the app had come preinstalled on my old Seocho holo flip-phone, and I had transferred everything over when I built my own.

"Where do you need it to go?" I ask, as I find them a cap.

"My clinic's over by Gramsci's Burger," Vik replies, adjusting Jackie's weight on his shoulder. "On Bradburt & Buran Street. You can set the ride for there."

I punch in the coords, confirm the ride. "Gramsci's Burger…. Got it. The Cab'll be here in five."

Vik gives me a nod. "Appreciate it, kid. If you ever need a ripper, you know where to find me." His eyes glow blue for a second, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. "Flicked you the contacts. Me and Jackie."

Jackie, still swaying slightly, groans. "C'mon, hermano, you sure you don't wanna come? Locust Artichoke, choom. You're missin' out!"

Right….

I smiled awkwardly at him. Despite everything Jackie's pretty damn easy to like, "I'll take your word for it. But I'll have to take a rain check. Got stuff to handle."

Vik shakes his head at him, and nods at me in gratitude. "Alright, kid, don't be a stranger."

I nodded. "I'll probably be here for his next fight… so try not to get your jaw shattered again, Jackie. And Vik—good luck keeping him in one piece"

Bidding them goodbye I turn, slipping my phone back into my jacket as I head on toward my car in the side alley of the gym.

Well… now I've got a ripperdoc in my contacts.

Would I go to him? Probably not. If I do find myself desperate enough to need to install some implants… I'd rather go with whoever Archie or Rebecca would recommend me to go to.

But hey, never hurts to have options.

And based on the state of the rest of Jackie's implants… even after the absolute beating he had taken in the ring, my senses tell me Vik did a clean enough job at least.

I slide into the driver's seat, the engine purring to life. Finally, I sigh in relief as I grab a bottle of potion from my jacket. The banana flavored healing potion is like a balm to my soul. I take a moment to feel the aches leave me before I pull out into the street.

Lizzie's Bar isn't much further north from here near Sutter Street, and it doesn't take me long to get there.

It's impossible to miss considering the massive neon sign of a girl in lingerie, striking a pose with a battle axe. Bright pink, and towering over the street, making sure no one can ignore it. The bar itself is drenched in neon—blue, purple, and pink light giving life to the otherwise dirty Watson street, with Lazrpop music blaring into the street from inside.

I pull into the lot, headlights flashing over gang tags sprayed in bold ink 'Lizzie Jizzie,' 'Fuck to Death,' 'Kill to Fuck; Fuck to Kill.' The Mox motto "Fuck and Let Fuck" central among them all.

I step out of the car, and grab the shotgun from the trunk. The cartridges are already on me, inside my jacket.

Moving toward the entrance, but before I can get far, I spot a familiar face.

Rita Wheeler.

She's lounging by the door, chatting with another Mox girl. The moment she sees me I can tell she's recognized me, her lips curve into a slow, seductive grin. Her friends peels off toward the bar, no doubt slipping inside to relay my arrival.

Rita steps forward, deliberate, like a cat sizing up her prey.

"Hey there, input~" Her voice is a lazy purr, amusement flickering to the shotgun in my hands. "Look at you, showing up all pretty with a preem piece like that. If that shotgun's for me, sugar, I gotta say—I love a man who knows what a girl wants."

By this point, I think I have a good read on the way she's going to be approaching this. Cliché as it is, it's not as if the attention is not enjoyable.

I chuckle, shaking my head. "Not this time, Rita. This one's for Becca."

She pouts dramatically, hand on her hip, before stepping closer, eyes flicking over the shotgun with keen interest. "A damn shame. That piece is gorgeous." Her fingers flex, like she's imagining what it'd feel like in her hands. "You sure you wouldn't rather sell it to us instead? I promise, we can make it worth your while."

I don't doubt that for a second. The Mox have built their entire reputation on providing a great experience after all. But well, I was not interested. At least not in what they primarily excelled at anyway… The Mox being a gang of sex workers aside, I know better than to mix business with pleasure…

Even so, I couldn't help but smile at the tactic. "Tempting offer, but Becca called dibs."

Rita huffs, rolling her eyes but not disappointed, exactly. More like taking stock. "Fair, fair. You know, Zain, you're an interesting one. We both know that shotgun ain't the real prize, that we're after."

She steps in, too close, her hand resting lightly against my chest. "I know what you're really bringing to the table, and I'm dying to get a taste of it."

Interesting…. Are the Mox under the same impression as Wakako? Did they too believe I had the backing of some unknown megacorp? Was it honestly that unfathomable to think that I alone could have come up with my tech?

I don't let that show on my face though, the micromanipulators keeping my expressions as controlled as possible.

Her fingers trail up, slow, teasing, stopping just under my chin. "Give us a shot, sweet cheeks. You and me? We could do amazing things together."

I exhale softly and smile, a touch dry. "I won't lie, it's a hell of an offer." My voice lowers slightly. "And I don't doubt for a second that whatever you've got in mind would be… fun."

Her grin turns sharp as she caresses my cheek. "You have no idea."

I let the silence stretch just long enough before stepping back, and ignore the resulting pout "But I'm still working things out. Besides, like I said last time… mass production of this is out of the question. You will be out of luck if that is what you have in mind."

What would she make of that?

If they also believe that I am being backed up by a corporation, then my reluctance for providing them a mass supply would mean that the 'so-called' corp behind me is unwilling to roll the tech into the market, and make their debut as of yet…

For a moment, I thought she would keep pushing. But it seemed she was done sizing me up already.

"Guess I'll just have to settle for enjoying the view for now," she mock sighs in defeat, stepping back with an easy, sultry rhythm, like she was the one letting me off the hook.

Her eyes flick once more over the shotgun in my hands, then back to me. "Damn shame, though. I like what I see... I'm sure I would've enjoyed a couple rounds myself."

I don't take the bait, just offering a casual shrug.

She exhales a mock sigh, feigning disappointment. "Such a shame." Then she tilts her head toward the entrance, her tone turning just a shade more serious. "Well, I won't hold you here any longer… I don't like being teased with things I can't have. Little Becca's in the private booths in the back. Left side corner, just past the dance floor. Don't keep her waiting!"

I nod at her in thanks but before I can step past her, Rita straightens slightly, and stops me once more.

"Hold up there, input—house rules first. You know how it is."

Right… she was acting bouncer too then. The chrome I sensed on her certainly was impressive at the very least. Chrome skin weave lattice covering her entire body, the retractable claws with poison fangs in both her arms, the constantly overclocked servos in her long completely chrome legs….

Even without the guns holstered beneath her arms, she was capable of dishing out a world of hurt on whoever crossed her path.

Her grin stayed as she began rattling off what seems like a well practiced line based on her tone "No unauthorized recordings. No drugs. No groping, if you find somebody you like, you find them in the catalog and ask for a private booth. There will be…. severe penalties if you break any of these rules."

The casual way she says it makes it clear—it's not a threat. It's just a fact.

I nod. "Got it. You won't have any trouble from me."

Rita smiles. "Oh, I know, sugar. Just getting the formalities out of the way." She steps aside, gesturing toward the door. "Go on in. Have fun, input!"

Stepping past Wheeler and the counter out front, I push through the beaded curtains and into the beating heart of Lizzie's bar straight into the dance floor.

Lazrpop thrums through the air—a heavy, bass-driven rhythm that makes the floor vibrate beneath my boots. The scent of cheap perfume, sweat, and synthetic liquor lingers in the air, mixing with the occasional puff of neon vapor drifting from ceiling vents.

The place is alive—Mox boys and girls attending their patrons scattered across the bar, lounging on velvet seats or swaying to the music under the ever-shifting neon glow. The walls are plastered with graffiti-styled murals, painted in bright, chaotic strokes of pink and electric blue, adding to the charged energy of the place.

I'd expected Lizzie's to be a strip club, something like Empathy. It isn't.

Instead, the real centerpiece sits at the very heart of the bar smack in the middle of the packed dance floor—a massive outlet hanging from the rafters of the club, surrounded by curved couches arranged lining the massive structure.

I can sense what the outlet is supposed to do. It's connected to a powerful server, acting as a sensory relay output. The principle behind the tech is not unlike what I had sensed from the netrunning tech from Yoko's store, except this isn't about diving into the Net. This is just pure output. A curated experience designed to feed sensory information straight into the neural connections using an interfacing medium…. A BD wreath of anyone jacked in.

Once again, I am floored with the ingenuity of tech in this era… My assumption that BDs were just some neural interfaced VR porn videos couldn't have been so close, yet so far from the truth.

Most of my research online, looking for BDs and XBDs had led me to believe that Braindances were neural interface VR porn. XBDs being that of the more disturbing, taboo variety…

But standing here, analyzing the truth of the tech with my sense, I realize how far off I was. This wasn't just about watching something—it was about being there. BDs didn't just play a recording in front of your eyes. They let you experience it all as if its happening to you!

Sights, sounds, emotions, even the stray thoughts flickering in the back of someone's mind. Like stepping into another person's body, feeling everything they did. Every emotion they experienced….

And if that's the case, then the possibilities go way beyond cheap thrills like mere Porn…

Why just watch a movie when you could live it? Feel the panic of a high-speed chase, the rush of an explosion at your back, or the heartbreak of a final goodbye.

Hell, why stop at fiction? What if people could experience things they could never hope to in their short lives? Walk through distant cities, fight on the frontlines of goddamned wars, step onto the bloody moon itself?

And if you could relive something, then what's stopping people from learning through it? I could already imagine experiencing a BD of a world-class surgeon and coming out of it knowing exactly how to make an incision, hands steady as if you'd been doing it for years.

What about therapy—letting someone feel another's pain firsthand instead of just sympathizing from a distance. Maybe some corpo shrink is already using it to treat trauma, guiding people through experiences in a way words never could.

Even art could be something else entirely. Not just hearing a song, but feeling what the artist felt when they wrote it. Seeing a painting the way the creator did, feeling their emotions quite literally as they produce their masterpieces.

The applications of this seem… practically limitless.

And I'm willing to bet a lot of these ideas aren't just theories. At this point, I shouldn't find all this so awe inspiring. This tech has existed here since generations. I am certain it has been put to use in all of that and more if the corporations had something to say about it.

Still I can't help but wonder what other kinds of technologies I would find on just mere casual observations here in Night City…. I have to admit, for all its faults, with just tech like this being a possibility… this city is actually kind of growing on me.

…. I have spent enough time gawking at the server and I don't want to garner anymore attention to me than what I am sure I already have.

I have kept Becca waiting enough as it is.

I stepped past the dance floor of Lizzie's, beyond the bar and toward the private booths. I quickly found the room she was occupying, and slid it open.

The bass from outside still thumped through the floor, muffled but steady. The neon glow bathed everything in shades of electric pink and magenta.

Rebecca wasn't alone.

She was sprawled back in her seat, boots kicked up on the table, drink in hand, a lazy smirk pulling at her lips as she chatted with a couple of Mox girls.

"I swear to fuck," Rebecca groaned, tipping her head back against the seat, "if I gotta sit through another gig like that, I'm gonna flatline myself just for the thrill."

The Mox girl across from her snickered. "That bad, huh?"

"Worse," Becca grumbled, swirling the booze between her fingers, eyes rolling. "I was stuck in the car with Falco the whole time while David and Kiwi handled everything." She threw up a hand. "Whole op was a fucking snooze fest. Just me, sitting on my ass, listening to Falco go on and on about old cars."

She was about to say some else when she spotted me and brightened visibly, grinning. Then her eyes fell on the gun in my hands and she froze.

One second, then two….

It was one of the Mox girls who broke the silence as she whistled low, leaning forward with her elbows on the table.

"Hot damn, you lucky bitch. What I wouldn't give to get my hands on that."

That snapped Becca out of her daze. She jolted upright, boots hitting the ground with a solid thud.

"Hey! Back off! Mine! Paws off! Paws fucking off!" she barked, grabbing her drink and downing in one gulp.

The second Mox girl snickered, shaking her head. "I gotta admit, Becca… When you told me you paid twelve Gs to some random gonk choom of yours you met in a gig, I figured I'd need to have your back, y'know, in case ….." Her gaze flicked to the shotgun again, and then at me lips quirking up. "But damn. I didn't think things were this serious."

The first one leaned back, nudging her friend with a smirk. "Yeah, think we're intruding. Maybe we should leave these two alone—looks like this is a moment."

Becca made a face, muttering something under her breath, but her ears were a little pink. She waved a dismissive hand, but the girls were already pushing off, tossing her a few lingering, amused glances as they sauntered toward the bar.

I nodded to her in greeting. "Hey. Sorry I'm late. Got a little held up outside the gym."

Becca waved a hand, already half-distracted by the gun in front of her. "Forget all that!" she exclaimed, pink-green eyes flicking between me and the shotgun like she didn't know which one to focus on first. She grabbed it with both hands, barely containing her almost feral excitement.

"Zain…" She turned it over, running her fingers along the contours, feeling every inch like she was committing it to memory. Then she let out a sharp, almost manic laugh. "What the fuck! This thing is preem as hell!"

She pumped the action once, the mechanism clicking smooth as silk. She snapped her head toward me, grinning wide. "You serious with this?! You actually made this for me?"

I smirked slightly. "Hey, I told you I'd hook you up, didn't I? This is the best I could reasonably make it!"

"Yeah, but fuck, Zain! I was expecting, I dunno, a normal shotgun with some of your tech slapped onto it. Like your SMG. Not a fucking masterpiece!" She held it up, tilting it toward the neon glow of Lizzie's, letting the cyan accents catch the light. "You see this?! Look at this sexy bitch! It's perfect."

She ran a thumb along the cyan tubing that lined the frame, pressing her lips together in something between a smirk and genuine appreciation.

"Magenta body, cyan blue, green accents—you actually got the colors right. What the fuck?! This is Nova as hell! Just how I like it." She turned it over in her grip, eyes gleaming as she tested the weight. "And this balance? Oh-ho, you really went all-in on this, huh?"

I shrugged, leaning against the table. "Had the time. Figured if I was making you a weapon… depending on the situation, it could save your life out there… and well… considering what we're going to be soon up against…. I might as well put my all into it, ya know? "

Becca paused for half a second. It was barely noticeable, just a brief flicker of something in her expression before she huffed out a short laugh.

"Damn. You really didn't have to go this hard," she muttered, shaking her head. "But I ain't complaining."

For a moment, she just smiled at me. I could tell she was genuinely amazed that I had personalized this for her. It was clear in her wide pink, green eyes.

Then, like a switch flipped, the awe exploded into full-blown excitement.

"Okay, okay—fuck admiring it! Tell me how the hell this baby works!"

She hoisted it up, snapping into a combat-ready stance so quick and instinctual it was like she'd owned it for years.

I reached into my jacket, pulled out the custom cartridges, and handed them over. "Alright. These are some special cartridges—"

"Uh-huh." She snatched them from my hand without looking, already turning them over in her hand.

I leaned in slightly, watching as Becca turned the cool blue cartridge over in her hands, running her thumb over the smooth casing.

"In those," I said, nodding toward them, "is where the magic happens."

…it would have been quite literally, if that had been the potion variant.

She nodded, eyes flicking back up. "Right, so… what do I do with 'em?"

I tapped a spot just behind the magazine slot, in front of the stock at the base of the cyan tubing. "They slot in right here. That's the charging port—it feeds into the chamber and will lace each shell, be it buckshot or a hollow point slug round. It won't work with a normal slug."

Becca nodded and followed my gesture, twisting the cartridge between her fingers once before she clicked it into place.

The holographic sight flared to life, a soft cyan glow pulsing as the system acknowledged the new charge. A faint hiss of pressure release followed, mist curling briefly from the vents before stabilizing.

Her eyes widened slightly, lips parting just a bit. She wasn't expecting that.

"Oh-oh! that's nice," she muttered under her breath, tilting it slightly to watch the glow pulse before shifting her gaze back to me.

I smirked. "Apart from that, it behaves like a standard pump-action shotgun. You load the rounds like you would in your Carnage—the gun handles the rest."

Becca nodded along, adjusting her grip as she rolled her shoulders.

"How many rounds does that single charge cartridge last?" she asked, pumping the action once.

"Should last for over five hundred rounds."

Her head snapped toward me.

"Five hundred?!" She barked a laugh, tilting the shotgun up like she was holding the One Ring of Sauron. "The hell, Zain! I ain't gotta reload for like… a goddamn month!"

I chuckled. "Well, you still gotta load shells. But yeah, the charge should last you a long while."

Becca grinned like a feral cat, giving the pump another test—just enjoying the weight, the click, the sheer smoothness of it.

"This is fucking preem," she breathed, eyes still locked onto the weapon like she was in love.

I reached into my jacket again, pulling out three more cartridges and setting them on the table. "I've got three spares for you as well. That should last you a while."

Her gaze flicked to the cartridges, then back to me. For a moment she didn't say anything.

I think I might have broken her….

"… You're really pulling out all the stops, huh?" She smirked, nudging one of the cartridges with her finger.

"Figured you'd want backups. If you ever run out, I can get more for you. These ones are from me," I shrugged. "If you ever need more... I don't charge much."

She paused and then let out a loud cackle "Damn, … you pulled out all the stops for me, huh? If I didn't know better….."

Before she could finish, the door slid open with a soft hiss and a woman stepped in.

She was tall, built like someone who knew exactly how to handle herself in a fight, and I sensed she had the chrome to back it up.

A high-grade chrome flesh weaved like a faceplate gleamed under the neon light, molded seamlessly to her skin, giving her an almost mask-like appearance—intimidating, yet eerily smooth. Her arms were fully bionic, reinforced with sleek, chrome plating that glinted every time she moved, the fingers ending in the kind of retractable claws I'd sensed on Rita.

A neon-accented jacket sat open over a high-cut blue bodysuit, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her legs, long and powerful, had hydraulic reinforcements— boosting her speed and kick force to lethal levels.

Infrared Kiroshi optics glowed faintly in her eyes, no doubt feeding her every bit of detail in the room. A reflex-boosting chip, subdermal skinweave armor thick enough to stop anything short of a sniper round…

Yeah. This was not someone you wanted to piss off.

But apparently, Becca had no such concerns.

Before I could even think of opening my mouth, she brandished the shotgun, flipping it up with one hand like it was an extension of her own body.

"Hey!" she barked, eyes narrowing. "I told you to lay off Susie! What the fuck are you doing here?"

…. So this was the leader of the Mox, then.

Susie Q.

The woman barely reacted, just gave Becca a look like a mother tolerating a particularly unruly child. "Becca," she said, voice calm, as she stepped in and sat down opposite us. "Put the gun down before you ice someone with a damn ricochet."

…It was more likely to freeze her solid if Becca actually fired that thing, but go off, I guess.

Becca glared at her for a second longer, huffing before lowering the shotgun with a roll of her eyes. "Tch. Whatever. What do you want?"

Susie stepped forward, her metal fingers tapping idly against her thigh. "I'm not here to make an offer, Becca. Still… Nothing wrong with getting to know a potential new name in the market, now is there?" Her cybernetic gaze flicked toward me, sharp, analyzing. "Just because the tech's not in circulation yet… nothing wrong with meeting the man who seems to be behind it face-to-face is there?"

I leaned back slightly, resting my arm on the booth. "People don't usually go out of their way to introduce themselves without a reason."

Susie smirked slightly, her eyes landing on the shotgun in Becca's hand. "People don't usually start handing out cutting-edge tech to mercs and expect to stay under the radar forever…. I must say, it's a magnificent piece, very eye catching… does it offer the same tech up you displayed in the container yard?"

Becca scoffed. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Susie. You're not here to introduce yourself, you're just poking your nose when I already told you not to."

Susie turned to her, unimpressed. "I seem to remember you being the one who let the Mox know about this in the first place."

"Yeah, and I also told you to back the fuck off!" Becca shot back, crossing her arms. "He's already here, isn't he? If he wanted to talk, he'd have talked. But nooo, you gotta keep pushin' 'cause you don't know when to quit!"

Susie ignored her, addressing me instead. "Becca's been off doing her own thing these days, hanging around Afterlife these days. Makes it a little harder to have an actual conversation."

Becca clicked her tongue. "Oh my god, woman, it's not a fucking crime to have friends outside of Lizzie's. And just 'cause I don't hang around here all day doesn't mean you get to barge in whenever you feel like it."

This …. was getting out of hand, and slowly becoming a cat fight…

Meeting the leader of the Mox was something I had already expected for today. It was Becca after all that wanted to me to sell some of my tech with them. If Wakako's interest was any indication…. then it was no wonder someone like the leader of the Mox would try something too.

Rita's interest outside had already proved that.

Before this could devolve any further, I interjected "Easy, Becca… I don't mind. I don't talking to Susie here for a bit."

"But Zain—"

"Listen to your choom, Becca" Susie cut off her protest.

Alright, enough of that. I can tolerate someone barging in on a private conversation…. In their club. But I won't tolerate the belittling of my friends.

I leveled a look at Susie, letting my tone dip just enough to carry weight. "I don't appreciate you talking down to Becca like that."

Her cybernetic eyes flicked toward me, unreadable, before she leaned back slightly.

Then, with a subtle shrug, she let a smirk creep onto her lips. "Oh, she knows I don't mean anything by it." She exhaled lightly, folding her arms. "Becca's always been… spirited."

… not the way it seemed to me.

I glanced at her, making sure she was good, before refocusing on Susie. "Alright. You wanted a conversation. You've got my attention. So talk."

Susie gave a slow nod, as if satisfied. "Like I said—just an introduction. You're a smart guy. You have been in Night City for a while, you have seen how she works. Anyone who makes waves gets noticed, and you, Vargas, are starting to make waves."

I stayed silent, letting her continue.

"Now, I don't know exactly where you came from, your past as a Nomad doesn't interest me. And frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is that you've got tech that has people talking. You've got a merc carrying your gear, and I don't believe for a second you're just some lucky gonk who stumbled onto a jackpot." She tilted her head slightly, cyberware glinting. "So, naturally, I wanted to see for myself."

Becca let out a scoff, shaking her head. "Tch. You make it sound so ominous. Maybe he's just good at what he does."

… wow. I didn't what she's seen in me, but I appreciated the confidence.

Susie smirked slightly. "I believe that's what I'm here to find out."

So, the leader of the Mox is here to fish out if I do have corporate backing then…

I tapped a finger on the table, considering my response. "You said you don't care where I came from. But you do care if I'm worth knowing. So, tell me—what exactly are you looking for here?"

Susie chuckled, low and knowing. "You already know what I'm looking for. I've built something here—something that keeps people safe. The Mox stand up for their own, and we don't get that luxury without making sure we have the means to do it." She gestured vaguely with a chrome hand. "I don't need to spell it out for you."

No, she's certain I have corporate backing. She wants access to both the so-called corp, and the tech.

The question was, why?

Even if I had a corporation backing me, it doesn't warrant such an aggressive push to gain access to it. She doesn't know anything about the corporation that would be backing me in this case….

She's running on a guess? She believes she knows which corporation is behind me.

…whatever, she's wrong either way. There are no corporations backing me.

But I need to run with this. For now. Let her play up her assumptions. I can treat her just like I would treat Wakako.

I nodded slowly. "You want better gear."

"You can say that," she corrected smoothly. "The city's changing, Vargas. The big players keep getting bigger, and the little guys?" She gave a pointed look. "They either get stomped, or they get smarter. I prefer to be in the latter category."

Ah…

She's equating our positions as well… She is also running the angle that I could be just some idiot who had a moment of Eureka.

So, either it's me in need of protection against other gangs who would come for me and my tech, with the Mox willing to provide it. Or its the Mox themselves who are in need of a powerful backer against their rival gangs and want the so-called megacorp that I am supposed to be associated with to do so.

That also neatly tells me that her assistance extends only so far as another megacorp doesn't come after me in the first place.

In either case, she is interested in establishing a business relationship at some point then.

"And what makes you think I'm interested?" I asked, watching her reaction.

To be honest, I …. liked idea of having a group of people who would be willing to protect me for a time. I would only need such a protection only so long as the Forge takes to provide me with knowledge, tech, magic or whatever that would render the difference in power between me and whoever that would come after me to be meaningless.

Even so… did I want that protection to be the Mox?

Susie claimed that she protected the sex workers that would otherwise be exploited out in the streets. That she really was the equivalent of a Sex Worker's union here in NC. And maybe she was right.

Becca seemed to believe that at least. Archie didn't refute that either….

What were the other options that I had?

There was the Valentino's through whatever connection Archie had with them. Archie had been willing to try that angle for me.

…. Then there's Wakako. I have a feeling the offer she has waiting for me in a week is bounded to be a gilded cage. But even that can be out grown in time, if the Forge keeps providing as it has been.

Or…. I could tough it out. YOLO it. Roll with the punches as I have been… Yeah, no. I can't leave something like this to luck, or chance.

Susie smiled in amusement. "Because you're here. You didn't walk away when I sat down. That tells me you're at least curious."

True enough…

Still, that doesn't mean I need to make a choice right now.

Before I could respond, the door slid open again, and a man, one of the Mox strolled in, carrying a tray with three glasses and bottle of Tequila, Centzon based on the label.

I could sense that it was one of the few drinks I would've actually chosen, based on the ingredients in it.

"Becca said you're someone with refined taste," Susie commented, tapping the table as the Mox boy set the glasses down.

…Becca talks about me with her friends?

She was the one who'd gotten the Mox to find out about my tech after all.

Well, I suppose that's expected… but I don't know whether I should be flattered or worried.

A bit of both, I suppose…

Susie tapped a finger on the glass. "If nothing else, we can at least drink to introductions."

The Mox, meanwhile, turned toward Susie. "Boss—Jude's asking for more gear."

Susie exhaled slowly, the first sign of real irritation cracking through her mask. "That girl…" She pinched the bridge of her nose, then waved a hand dismissively. "Go tell her she needs to wrap it up. The strays need to leave. We've done all we can for 'em."

The Mox gave a nod before he slipped back out the door.

Susie let out a short breath, shaking her head as she picked up her glass. "I know you think I'm just here to push my agenda, Vargas, but that's not all this is." She raised the tequila slightly. "A toast, at least? To getting to know each other"

I studied her for a moment, then reached for my glass. "To introductions then."

Becca grumbled something under her breath but still clinked her glass against ours before downing her in one go. She quickly got herself a refill. I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle as the burn slid down my throat.

Susie set her glass down, resting her arms on the table. "Look, Vargas. I'm not here to make you sign on the dotted line. Not yet. I just want you to think about it." She gave a small smile. "You're smart. You know what's coming. People are going to want in on whatever you're making. And when that time comes, it's better to have friends than enemies.

You're preaching to the choir here. I know.

Her eyes flickered slightly, that faint glow from her Kiroshis telling me she had just received an incoming call.

She took a moment before standing, as my phone buzzed in my pocket. She adjusted her jacket. "I've flicked you my number. I've taken enough of your time as it is." She looked at me directly, her tone light but deliberate. "We'll talk again, Vargas."

I gave a noncommittal nod, watching as she turned and strode toward the door. Becca, arms crossed, tracked her the whole way out before finally exhaling loudly once Susie was gone.

"Fucking finally," she muttered, slumping back into the booth. "Hate when she does that corpo style posturing shit…. Jeez, she totally ruined the mood."

I smirked, setting my glass down. "She really get under your skin that bad?"

Becca groaned. "Not really… Susie's been alright…. Most of the time. It's just… ever since Lizzie's stopped being a hangout of mine, she's begun this… I don't know what this is honestly... And it's not just with me. She does it with all the gonks who she thinks are setting out on their own…"

I chuckled, swirling the tequila in my glass. "Well she's persistent, I'll give her that…"

We didn't speak for a while. This was as good a time as any to talk to her about the other gang leader who'd come knocking for my tech anyway…

"You know… Susie's not the first person who's come knocking about my tech." I ventured.

Becca raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Who else is knocking on your door?"

I sighed. "Wakako."

There was no flicker of surprise on Becca's face—if anything, she just snorted, shaking her head. "Figures. Aunty keeps her ear to the ground better than anyone. We got the damn intel for that gig from her in the first place. No way she wasn't keeping an eye out."

I leaned back slightly, eyeing her. "What's up with that, anyway? Why do you call her 'Aunty'? I remember you saying that back in her parlor too."

Becca made a face, "Pffft, yeah, well…" She waved a hand vaguely. "That's just somethin' my brother used to say. Picked it up from him. Kinda stuck, I guess."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"What, you think there's some deep, hidden meaning behind it?" she snorted. "Shit, no. It's not like we're family or anything. She's a fixer—I'm a merc. It's just a thing. You don't piss off fixers if you wanna keep working, simple as that."

I hummed, considering that. "And you don't think I should piss her off either."

Becca ran a hand down her face. "Zain, I know you don't wanna work for her. Or for any fixer. You sure as shit don't wanna work for Susie either. But that doesn't mean you should burn bridges you don't gotta burn."

I tapped a finger on the table. "Then what should I do? Do you trust her?"

Becca scoffed. "Trust? Nah. I wouldn't go that far. But I know how she operates. She doesn't fuck people over for no reason—long as you don't give her a reason… Well, as long as you're not being a total gonk dealing with her… And like I said, you don't cross fixers unless you're ready for every other one to turn their back on you."

Becca sighed, rolling the glass between her hands. "Dealing with fixers like Wakako ain't simple. You tell 'em no the wrong way, you don't just burn a bridge—you might as well have lit yourself up with it."

I frowned, watching the way she toyed with her glass, like she was debating how much more to say. "So, what do you suggest I do?"

Becca hummed and sighed. "Just keep doing what you're already doing, I guess? Get some chooms to back you up in case shit goes sideways." She set the glass down with a click, leaning back. "You don't got a fixer, you sure as hell don't got a corp backing you, no matter Susie's got going in her head—so you gotta have chooms who got your back, 'cause this city will try to sink its claws into you, Zain."

Ah… the power of friendship.

Truly, a wonderful epithet. Well, she wasn't wrong… if all else fails, I can depend on my friends to back me up at the very least.

Hopefully.

"You got me." She jabbed a thumb at herself, grinning. "Got Archie too. And… ugh, probably that bloodsucking corpo lawyer input of hers, if you really need him." She wrinkled her nose. "And that hag Yoko too, I guess."

I sighed, tapping my fingers against the table.

That's something at least.

Then I paused. "Hey, wait a minute… what do you mean And you're sure I don't have corpo backing?"

Becca stared at me deadpan… and then she lost it.

She cracked up, cackling so hard she had to slap the table, nearly doubling over. "Oh fuck—Zain, you're killing me!" She wiped at her eyes, still laughing. "You? With a megacorp? Oh, my fucking god!"

I scowled. "I don't see what's so funny."

"Choom, c'mon! You really think a corpo'd let you run around doing your own thing? No handlers, no leash? Nah, they'd got you chipped, tagged, and bleeding 'em eddies by now." She leaned forward, grinning wide. "You're a gonk if you think I'd fall for that."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'm a gonk. Laugh it up."

She chuckled. "Hell, I think you are probably some rich corpo's kid…. I mean—look at you! Totes adorable lost puppy energy when I first met you. Then you told me that story about not knowing how you got here…. And then you pulled out that gold bar out of your ass…"

I huffed. "Jeez…I am not some rich kid like you think I am."

"Sure, sure," she teased, "You runaway corpo nomad, you."

… she wasn't going to believe me. Well, I wasn't poor back home… and my did work for a corporation, technically when she still had a job….

Right. No need to think about all of that. About them.

Nothing good lies there.

We let the conversation settle, the music thumping from outside, the neon glow flickering across our faces. Becca sighed, stretching her arms overhead.

"Alright, fuck all this serious talk. We came here to chill," she announced, kicking the table lightly with her boot. "And you owe me a dance."

I blinked. "A dance?"

She grinned, tilting her head. "Hell yeah. We were supposed to be partying, but Susie came in and sucked all the fun outta the room. So now? We fix that. Get the fuck up."

Well, I did come here primarily to hang out….

I agreed. "Alright, alright."

Becca cheered and unzipped her jacket.

My eyebrows shot up. "Whoa—what are you doing?"

She pulled her jacket open, and—

Oh.

Inside, nestled inside her jacket, was a goddamn arsenal.

She pulled out two Lexington pistols from her inner pockets, followed by her shotgun Guts and an Ajax rifle. Setting them all down on the table one by one, she then grabbed the shotgun I made her and tucked it neatly inside her jacket. Then, like some kinda magic trick, she started holstering the rest of the weapons back into place, and closed her jacket.

I just stared.

Becca smirked at my expression. "Hey, a girl's gotta keep her things somewhere."

So that's why you wear such a baggy jacket…

She laughed, then jerked her head toward the door. "C'mon! We're partying, choom!"

I downed the rest of my drink, set the glass down, and stood. "Alright, alright—lead the way."

Becca whooped, spun on her heel, and practically bounced toward the dance floor.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

(A/N)

I have made an edit in the previous chapter. Idirexii pointed out that Rebecca paying 10k for a top tier weapon is believable, but 100k is way too much. And he was right.

I had based the price off of the Tier 5 weapons in game. A Tier 5 Saratoga is 120k.

I had wanted to go realistic, but I did't know what an actual gun would cost in real life.

I did some more research, and now I am basing it off that value. A little adjusted due to the setting. It's now 12K.

Rolls this chapter:

Resource Generator (Toaruverse) (100CP)

Buying materials and resources cost too much time and manpower, especially if the materials or resources that you need are limited or rare. You gain a warehouse full of materials and resources no matter how common to how rare it is that you need to build any technology that you want. It replenishes used materials every twenty-four hours after you take it out the warehouse, additionally it records and replenishes any materials that you add in your warehouse. After the jump it would become a warehouse add-on or be inserted near your starting location.

* Gives a rapidly restocking warehouse which contains large amounts of anything that falls under materials and resources that is stored in your warehouse improving most perks that are listed under supplies

Zain opened with 50 CPs, and earned 50 more by the time of roll. Used up all 100. And closes with 0.