Neon Mass: Infernal Nights (Commission) 1 (Patreon)

A sharp burst of pain across my cheek brought me to the here and now. I looked up, just in time to receive another blow to the head. About the only thing that I was able to take in before seeing stars again was a fist attached to what looked like an edgy, roided out walking stereotype of a gangbanger. I fell against the floor, only just now noticing that I was tied to a chair as I hit the ground.

“Think you can steal from us, gonk?” I vaguely heard a voice ask, as I tried to get the six boots in my vision to stop shaking so much.

“Don’t knock him around too much,” another voice said to the first, as the chair I was tied to was moved upright. My head rolled around on my shoulders as I did my best to get it upright. “‘Saka still wants him delivered alive.”

The first voice grunted, and my vision was beginning to clear enough that I could make out two blurry figures, before he said, “Still don’t think it’s right, handing over this gonk to the corpos, especially when we caught him red handed.”

“You don’t like it? Bring it up with Sasquatch,” the second voice said, and as I rapidly blinked my eyes, my vision cleared enough for me to make out the two speakers.

As I’d thought initially, both looked like a combination of the cliche gangster and cliche bodybuilder. Their bulky frames made them seem larger than life and their tattoos and piercings were enough to intimidate even the bravest of souls. I struggled against the ropes that bound me to the chair, but to no avail. My captors noticed my attempts and, with a chuckle, the second voice spoke up.

"Save your strength, little gonk. You're not going anywhere until we get paid."

I glared at him, but the pain in my head made it difficult to think straight. I tried to remember how I ended up in this mess, but my mind was a blur. One minute I was playing around online, delaying heading to bed on account of having had too much caffeine too late in the day, the next I was here, with there being no real connection between the two moments.

The first voice spoke up again, "So, you gonna tell us who you're working for?"

I stayed silent, knowing that any answer I gave would probably result in more blows to the head. The second voice sighed, "Guess we'll have to find out the hard way then."

I felt a sense of dread wash over me as they both approached, their fists clenched. I closed my eyes, bracing for impact, but the blows never came. Instead, there was a loud crash, followed by the sound of gunfire.

My eyes opened, as the two body-bangers (I must be more out of it than I thought, the fuck was my brain thinking with that?) turning towards a far door. Both raised weapons, a baseball bat for one and a shotgun for the other, and made their way over to the door. I may have been imagining it, but I was pretty sure that I was seeing a blue glow around the door.

To my and the gangsters’ surprise, the door suddenly shot from the wall like a bullet, slamming into Bat-Boy right before two women rushed in. Both had the sides of their head shaved, though one was a lot taller and had blue hair while carrying a massive ax, the other had brown hair and the only places I could see without tattoos were on her face. I must have been hit in the head harder than I thought, because I was pretty sure I was looking at two video game characters tearing the gangbangers to metaphorical ribbons.

Jack, because only one individual had that ponytail with those tattoos, looked at me and asked her companion, “That the target?”

More evidence my head was still out of it: watching Junker Queen lift her patchwork ax out of a man’s body after nearly cutting them in two shouldn’t be hot. Still she turned to me and… she is a very tall woman…

“What’cha think, Bee?” Junker Queen asked the air. Or she was on a call with someone. It was probably the latter. After a moment she nodded, turning to Jack, “This is the choom, I’ll get ‘im walking, you keep an eye out for reinforcements.”

Jack nodded, ratcheting the slide on her shotgun and turning to face the door as Junker Queen walked over to me and drew a knife. I tensed up as she cut through the ropes that had been holding me to the chair, but she simply caught me as I slumped forward. I was surprised at how gentle her touch was, given the brutality with which she had just dispatched my captors.

“C’mon, we gotta move,” she said, guiding me to my feet and supporting me with one hand. “Jack’s got our six covered, but I don’t know how long that’ll last.”

My head was still swimming, but I was starting to come around. “Who are you?” I managed to ask.

“Names aren’t important right now,” Junker Queen said, leading me towards the door. “What is important is that we get out of here before more of those gonks show up.”

We stepped through the shattered doorway and into a dimly lit hallway. Jack was crouched behind a nearby wall, her shotgun trained on the door we had just come through. She looked up as we approached.

“You good to move?” she asked me.

I nodded, though I was still feeling wobbly. “I think so.”

“Good,” Jack said. “We need to get to the extraction point before more of those gonks show up.”

We started down the hallway, moving as quickly as we could without drawing attention. My only weapon was the pistol I’d swiped from the gangster that Junker Queen had cut nearly in half, so I stayed firmly between the two women as they led me out of the place we were in. I tried to ignore the odd nagging feeling I was getting regarding my arm, for some reason.

Our escape attempt went smoothly, until we reached the door leading outside. Junker Queen poked her head out the door, only to jerk it back in as bullets flew past her head.

“Some corpo suits, looks like they’ve got serious kit,” she said.

Jack nodded, holding up her free hand perpendicular to her body as she raced past me and Junker Queen to the opposite side of the door. There were blue flashes and ripples in the air in front of her arm as she moved, and I briefly heard someone shout, “Biotic.”

Inefficient, some voice in my mind scoffed at Jack’s biotic usage. A spike of pain shot through my head, and I did my best to ignore it. Junker Queen pushed me to the ground behind cover as Jack unleashed a barrage of biotic energy on the suits. I could hear the suits shouting orders at each other, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying over the sound of gunshots and biotic blasts.

Junker Queen looked at me, “We need to get out of here now. Can you walk?”

I nodded, though my head was still spinning and my arm felt strange. Together, we made our way out of the building, trying to keep low and avoid any more gunfire.

As we emerged from the building, I saw a sleek black car waiting for us. Jack opened the door and motioned for us to get in. Junker Queen helped me into the backseat as Jack jumped into the driver’s seat.

“We’re not out of the woods yet,” Jack said, starting the car and speeding off down the road.

I looked out the window as we drove away, and saw three cars following us. I could feel an instinct screaming at me, and, figuring I was likely dead if I didn’t do something to contribute, I leaned out the window and pointed my left arm at the truck closest, hand in a fist and held low. To my surprise, my forearm unfolded, a small circular band filled with what looked like miniature rockets rising up. A single rocket fired, impacting with the grill of the lead vehicle and easily punching through the metal.

It exploded just as Junker Queen pulled me back into the car, “Are you crazy, you drongo?!”

“Well I had to do something useful,” I shot back, even as the apparent rocket launcher in my arm folded back up.

Jack let out a low whistle, “Looks like our boy's got some toys. We’ll have to have Freckles check out that arm.”

“Yeah, but first we need to lose these guys,” Junker Queen said, turning around to peer at the pursuing cars through the back window. “Any ideas?”

Jack grinned, “Just one.”

With that, she swerved hard to the right, sending the car skidding through a narrow alley. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as Jack expertly maneuvered the car through the alleyway, barely missing dumpsters and other obstacles. The pursuing cars were hot on our tail, but Jack seemed confident that she could lose them.

Junker Queen let out a whoop of excitement as Jack expertly maneuvered the car through the narrow alleyways, dodging obstacles and weaving in and out of traffic. I held on for dear life as we raced through the city, the pursuing cars soon nowhere in sight.

I fell back against the backseat, letting out an almost explosive relieved sigh. Junker Queen turned to me, her eyes glinting with something that might have been admiration.

“You're a real piece of work, you know that?” she quipped.

I smiled weakly, feeling a rush of gratitude towards the two women who had just saved my life. “Thanks for getting me out of there.”

Jack shrugged, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, “It's what we do. We're the best in the business.”

“Who are you?” I asked again, curiosity getting the best of me.

Junker Queen hesitated for a moment before answering, “We're part of a mercenary group. We take on jobs that others can't or won't.”

I nodded, the pieces starting to fall into place, “And that job was rescuing me?”

Junker Queen nodded, her expression serious, “You were a target. Someone wanted you dead, and our boss wanted you on the team.”

“Who wants me dead and why does your boss want me on your team?” I asked, feeling a chill run down my spine.

“We don't know,” Jack interjected. “But we're going to find out. As for why the boss does anything, don’t know, don’t care so long as the money comes in.”

I leaned back against the seat, leaned my head back against the seat, and just felt the exhaustion wash over me. I couldn't believe I had just narrowly escaped death, and with the help of two complete strangers no less.

As we drove through the city, I couldn't help but wonder what other surprises awaited me. My arm had already revealed itself to be more than just a normal appendage, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to discover about myself and the world I had just been thrust into.

The car eventually pulled up to a nondescript building on the outskirts of the city. Jack parked the car and turned to us.

“Welcome to our base of operations,” she said, grinning.

Junker Queen helped me out of the car, and we followed Jack into the building. Jack led us into a large room filled with computers and monitors. A woman with dark brown hair in a side buzz was sitting in front of one of the computers, typing furiously.

“Took the two of you long enough,” the woman said, before several of the screens shut down and she turned around.

I blinked upon seeing her. First Mass Effect, then Overwatch, and now here I was staring down female V from Cyberpunk 2077. I’d never actually played the game, but I’d seen her image enough to recognize her. But I couldn’t think of anyone describing her as being the one in the computer chair.

“Did Arasaka make us?” Jack asked as she walked past V.

“No, you’re welcome,” V answered, turning her gaze onto me. “So you’re the one who’s got every corpo in the city in a tizzy. What’s your deal?”

I stared at her for a moment, before saying quite honestly, “I don’t even remember my own name right now. All I know is that I woke up to a pair of gorillas deciding to use my head as a punching bag.”

V grunted, turning back to her computer screens, “Best get him to Freckles then, she’ll want to take a look at that arm of yours at least.”

Junker Queen put a hand on my shoulder and guided me further inside the building to a room that looked like a mix of a dentist’s office and a machine shop. Sitting in a rolling chair with a paperback book in her hands and an unlit cigarette hanging from between her lips was a short, mousy brunette with a massive number of freckles on her face.

She glanced up as we walked in, her right eye a bright red while her left was a mud brown, her gaze seeming to scan me up and down. Dog-earing the page she was on, she stood from her chair and walked over to us. Before promptly frog-marching me over to the dentist-patient looking chair.

“I have one question for you,” the shockingly young looking woman said as she sat back in her rolling chair and Junker Queen left. “How the fuck are you not a cyberpsycho?”

“Wha?” I eloquently asked in response.

“I’m counting seven major cyberware systems on top of a biotic amp, more than enough to cause cyberpsychosis in most cases I’ve heard of. But from everything we’ve been told about you, you clearly have somehow managed to avoid it. So how did you pull it off?”

I blinked, before telling her, “I only know of one cybernetic implant in me, and that’s the mini rocket launcher in my arm.”

Freckles raised an eyebrow, “And you don’t remember how you got it?”

I shook my head, “No, I woke up with it already implanted.”

Freckles hummed, her fingers tapping against the armrests of her chair, “Interesting. I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’ll need to run some tests.”

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief that someone was finally going to help me figure out what was going on with my body. Freckles went to work, hooking me up to various machines and running several tests. I watched as the screens beeped and flickered, my heart racing with anticipation.

After what felt like hours, Freckles finally turned to me, a look of amazement on her face, “You’re an anomaly.”

I furrowed my brow, “What do you mean?”

Freckles grinned, “Your body is a marvel. You accept cybernetic implants unlike anyone I’ve ever seen or even heard of before, and your biotic potential is off the charts. You’re a walking miracle.”

“So no worries for me?” I asked.

“Not at the moment, anyway,” she answered, removing the various wires and sensors connecting me to the machines she used to run her tests.

“Thanks, Freckles,” I said, moving to get off the chair. Only to freeze in place as a scalpel was driven into the chair uncomfortably close to a certain part of my anatomy.

“Because we’ve just met, I’ll let you off with a warning: call me that again, and I’ll make you less of a man than Junker Bitch who retrieved you,” she promised cooly. “My name is Amelia Dallon.”

“Understood,” I said, my eyes firmly locked on the medical implement that was close enough to my testicles that I was afraid of them re-ascending out of self-preservation.