A Hard Knock Life (Worm/Cyberpunk 2077): Test chapter (Patreon)

So, this is a test. As some people know, I've been looking to add a fourth story to my roster for some time. I've been taking typing lessons to up my writing speed and such, so I've been experimenting a bit. First was with the quest, but that kinda fizzled out because instant feedback is very addicting so I would end up focusing on the quest at the expense of my regular stories. 

This is take two. The idea is that I'm going to build up a huge backlog of like twenty chapters or something and have the fourth story slot be a bi-weekly story at the start. If I feel like I can handle it, then it could get upgraded to a weekly story.  Or, vice versa, if I think it's too much, I'll put it on ice for a bit to let my backlog build back up.

But, a fundamental problem with that idea is that I have no clue how well a story will do until I post it. This is why I'm skipping the normal process to get some feedback from all of you to decide if this story is a project I should commit to for several hundred thousand words.  At the moment, I just have this chapter written out so the story is still under development, so now is the time to speak up. 

Like or dislike the premise? Let me know. The story is boring? Let me know. You want Taylor to be the main character? Let me know. See something that you would like improved? Let me know. Or, if everything is perfect and it's the single greatest work of fiction that's currently in existence and likely ever conceived? Let me know. Any feedback you can give me, then please let me have it. It's going to determine if I continue with the story or try another and how the story will go forward. 

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There were some fights that you just weren’t meant to win. That couldn’t be won. It was hardly a new thought. People had been writing poems and singing songs about that same thought for thousands of years. They gave that thought special names -- Fate, Destiny, and so on. Since the very beginning, humanity had been enraptured with the idea of the unbeatable.

And the idea of beating it anyway.

That’s how Legends were made, capital L. Those that stood up to the unbeatable, gave it the finger and told it to kiss the dirtiest part of their ass. David and the Goliath. Hercules and the Hydra. Beowulf and Grendel. And so on and so on. Each had their own beast to slay, and each had their deeds carved into legend. They were Legends. Made up ones at that, but each had their names carved so deep into history that they would never be forgotten.

My beast? Night City. A sprawling urban metropolis with a population of twenty million and a skyline that seemed to stretch out and up for miles. It was impressive really. There were a few hundred deaths a day, yet the city only seemed to grow. Slaying such a beast would be a tall task for anyone. Worse, I was competing against countless others that had the same singular desire that I did -- to carve their name into Night City, so that we would never be forgotten.

Night City’s special brand of immortality.

“Uh, V,” A familiar voice called out, and I looked over to see it was a scrawny teenager. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and near skeletal thin. Probably a freshmen, if I had to guess, but he looked younger than the typical fifteen because of his size.

"Yeah?" I started, cocking an eyebrow at him. We sat in the cafeteria, pretty much the only reason that I bothered showing up to school. The food was awful, but it was still good by virtue of being free food. "Who are you?"

The guy fidgeted, "Greg Vader?" He answered, making it sound like a question. I had absolutely no clue who he was, and how nervous he looked was putting me on edge.

"What do you want?" I asked, cutting to the chase, my gaze roaming the kid, searching for any signs of an obvious weapon. Or backup. He didn't look like the type, but Winslow had a fair bit in common with prison. Between shoving three schools worth of kids into a place with half the budget needed to run a single one, the gangs, and the teachers that just couldn't be bothered… sometimes it was best to follow prison rules.

Join a gang. Be someone's bitch. Kill someone. Or convince everyone you're crazy.

Greg trying the first two on me wouldn't work -- wasn't gay or in a gang. The second two might, though.

He took a seat in the empty seat next to me before glancing around, checking if anyone was listening in before he leaned close and spoke in a low whisper. "Is it true that you hacked the school system?" He asked, a hint of desperation in his voice.

I had. It wasn't hard.

Meeting his gaze for a long moment, I offered a small shrug. "Depends on how badly you want a grade changed," I asked, hoping that I would get some pocket money for the day and silently glad it was just biz. The school systems were an absolute joke. The only difficulty I had was dealing with just how outdated they were. I wasn't even a particularly gifted netrunner either -- coding was just one of those things that you were better off learning, no matter who you were.

"Fifty Euros?" He questioned, holding out a folded bill to me. As soon as it had appeared, I swiped it from his hand and stuffed it in my pocket.

"I think you might be the only person left that still calls eddies Euros," I remarked. "But what class, test, and what grade do you want?" Falsifying grades was such a problem that a market appeared for it. It would be a stretch to say that everyone in Winslow was doing it, but it was easy enough to find someone to do it for you. I was far from the only one. But, as a result of that, I didn't get to name my price.

In general, it was ten eddies per grade level. Unless Greg had managed to get a zero, then he wanted an A.

"Mrs. Knott, the midterm. I didn't do that well. I didn't pay attention in, like, one class, but it was an important one, you know? So I didn't know how to do any of the stuff after. I tried to figure it out, but I couldn't, and by then I didn't want to look stupid in front of everyone when I asked about something they all had learned last week," Greg rambled excuses as if I were his parents or someone that he had to justify his grade to.

Mrs. Knott was a computer science teacher. One of the very few that would care to check previous grades. And cared enough to notice if a grade had been inflated. So, I would need to jack in a piece of malware that would register the grade as a higher grade but still display the same garbage test score. Simple enough.

"Consider it done," I told Greg, and he practically melted in his seat. And didn't get up. I glanced at the younger man -- he was a fifteen-year-old freshman, while I was a Junior at seventeen. We didn't share any classes either. "How'd you hear about me? Recommended by a friend?" I asked, wondering what rumors were floating around.

Greg looked a bit put out by the sudden question, "Taylor Hebert told me?" He said as if I was supposed to know who that was. Winslow was an overpopulated school. I didn't know a fraction of the people in my grade, much less freshmen. "I was talking to her since we both sat next to each other in Mr. Glady's class, about how I totally bombed that test and how my mom was going to ground me for the next eternity when she found out. It really would have sucked because Space Invaders just got a re-release on VR, and I've been waiting years to play that game. Do you know about it? It’s this totally retro-"

I sighed, "Greg? Focus." His mouth seemed to have a mind of its own.

Greg blinked as if he hadn't noticed, "Uh… yeah. Taylor Hebert told me. Do you know her?" My blank expression must have answered me because he offered more information, "She was the girl that was stuck in the locker with the… uh…"

"Tampons and shit," I recalled. I remember the event because I had been confused about how anyone could fit in those small lockers. Just about everything was digital now, so the lockers were just big enough to carry stuff that couldn't be data. I think I saw her once -- long black hair, dark eyes, and a mouth that was just a bit too big for her face. Not pretty, but also not the ugliest girl I had ever seen.

The answer was that someone had emptied out the three lockers that made a row and removed the dividers. Meaning that what had happened was premeditated. Even still, I never heard anything about it again so I guess no one got in trouble for it. No shock there. The only surprise was that the girl decided to come back to school. "I remember… how'd she find out about me?"

To that, Greg just shrugged. I guess word got out eventually. So long as it didn't bring me any trouble, then I would just enjoy the influx of customers. "I'll take care of it tonight. See ya," I said, standing up and walking away.

It was a bit shameful, really. I wanted to make my mark on the city, but I was stuck changing grades for petty cash. Really petty cash. But I had to eat and I didn't have a plethora of better opportunities. People weren't rolling up to my door and asking me if I wanted a job. The obvious solution was to get my name out there, but in Night City…

If you wanted to play the game, then that gave you a laundry list of enemies. And that's just by throwing your hat in the ring. Making a name for yourself meant you had to make enemies out of someone and there was never a good choice. The Tyger Claws, the ABB, Valentios, Maelstrom, Marquis, the Moxe… all of them were major gangs. They were everywhere you looked. Making a name for yourself meant that if they weren't your enemy, then they wanted to recruit you.

There just wasn't a good way to start.

So, I was forced to look for a bad way to start.

I walked through the crowded hallways of Winslow. The place was the definition of rundown. The halls were filthy, there were overlapping gang tags -- some of which had been there before my time, and the school just never bothered to clean them up. Every other person was rocking gang colors, usually moving in groups. More than once rival gangs bumped into each other in the halls, and school hours weren’t enough to stop them from fighting.

Turning a corner, I saw my next class. There, I saw a… friend waiting outside the door for me. Lock glanced over and nodded at me, which I returned.

“You going to class?” He asked, gesturing to my history class. I enjoyed history. I liked learning about all the stupid little decisions that got the human race from hiding in caves to nearly blowing ourselves up with nukes on several occasions. But, Mr. Harris’ class… I’d probably learn more by half paying attention to a documentary back home.

Shaking my head, I asked him the same question. “You?”

“Nah, I’ve already flunked trig. No point in going now,” Lock dismissed with a shrug. He sent me a look, “Don’t suppose you could give a friend discount?”

I scoffed, “Discount implies you could pay me in the first place,” I pointed out. To that, Lock flashed me a lopsided grin. Then it faded.

"You want to get out of here then? We should talk.” It was easy enough to guess about what. Shoving my hands into my jacket pockets, I nodded and we both started walking away from class.

No sooner than we left the building, I regretted the decision. Looking up, I saw gray clouds heavy with rain. The news forecast warned of acid rain -- not the eat your skin kind, but the give you a rash and possibly make your hair fall out kind. So, we just walked a little faster towards our destination.

Winslow was on the edge of Watson, nearly on the corner where Kabuki and Little China met. Meaning that it was utterly fucked when it came to gangs. You had the Tyger Claws and the ABB from both areas, on top of gangs like Marquise, which controlled the lower end of Watson while Maelstrom controlled the upper half. Honestly, it was nothing short of impressive that the tall school building wasn’t a crater in the ground.

“You’re still in, right?” Lock questioned as he headed for a train station to take us home. The subway was old, outdated, covered in graffiti with an army of homeless camping out there. We paid them no mind, just like they didn’t pay us any mind as we got onto the train and took a seat.

I glanced over at him. If there was ever a time to back out, then this was it. “Yeah, I’m in,” I confirmed with a nod. Lock looked relieved as he slumped into his seat. “Are the others meeting us tonight?” In the end, I had been too big of a chicken to take the plunge alone. Lock was someone that I’ve known since I was a kid -- our moms were friends. He put me in touch with his… ‘gang’ when I found out that he was running scams, and I let slip that I knew the net.

With this gig, I would officially be throwing my hat in the ring.

“Good. And, yeah, they’ll meet us there,” Lock confirmed. There was a hum of excitement and worry in my blood, like a low jolt of electricity flowing through me. The gig was one hell of an opening letter too. Enough so that I was going to psych myself out if I let my thoughts linger on it. Instead, I focused on something else.

“What about capes?” I asked quietly, looking at Lock, who shrugged as an answer. Thirty years ago, people with superpowers just started appearing. Some people thought it was a result of implants at first, but not for long with a naked guy that glowed gold flying around the place. According to the news, even after thirty years, there was a fairly small population of capes but their influence could be felt everywhere.

Gangs were powerful with mods and battle drugs. With capes? That was a whole different beast. To say nothing of the Corp Sponsored capes.

“What about them?”

“What do we do if we see one? Bail?” I asked for clarification -- hope for the best but prepare for the worst. In the worst case, we came across a cape. Not just any cape, but a cape that was modded out the ass.

Lock let out a small laugh, “We have guns, V. Capes… well, I can’t say that they aren’t anything to worry about, but most of them aren’t bulletproof. Not without mods, at least.” That much was true, I guess. Cape’s powers varied wildly enough that they could be broken up into several classifications, some more useful when it came to stopping bullets than others. In some ways, it was just easier to think of them as people that had a unique, one of a kind implant that let them do whatever the hell that they did.

For the most part, at least. Then you had characters like Hookwolf who, between his powers and his mods, seemed damn near unkillable without something special. And something special sure as hell was out of my price range.

“Fair enough,” I conceded the point.

Lock bumped into my shoulder, “Don’t worry so much. I know getting your cherry popped sounds scary, but these kinds of things… the wait is the worst part. When you’re there, in the moment, it’s like time speeds up. You’ll only realize it’s done when we’re back in the car with our loot, driving off into the sunset.”

I let out a huff of laughter, “I guess I’ll just have to wait and see about that.”

…

All things considered, it was probably really tough being a hero in Night City. Which is why so many of them joined Corporations. Being a hero, more so than anything else, puts one hell of a target on your back, and in this day and age, when everyone had at least a basic neural implant, your identity was only as well guarded as your ICE or Intrusion Countermeasures Electronics. Without corp grade ICE, being a hero made you a corpse waiting to happen because gangs had the means to slip through ICE. And pissing them off gave them motivation to.

It was a lingering thought as I looked at an ad for Glory Girl -- blonde hair teased, bright blue eyes, a tight-fitting black and gold outfit that was complete with a tiara. If she had any mods, then they weren’t visible -- she was a flying brick that was completely immune to physical weapons. Though, based on the winking ad that scrolled on the hologram billboard, you’d think she was another sexed-up model despite being the same age as me.

She belonged to a corporation. Her whole family did. They had shows, brands, and all that shit that came with corporate life. As a result, they spent more time acting, modeling, interviewing, and everything in between than they did helping people.

Next was an ad for a motorcycle that was way out of my price range. Though, with Miss Malitia on the bike in a black tank top and an American flag scarf that covered half of her face, glasses, and a cap covering the rest, I really wished it wasn’t. The Protectorate were technically an independent group that was government-sponsored, but everyone knew that was just a thin veneer to hide the fact that they belonged to the corps too.

“Thinking about becoming a Rockerboy?” Lock asked me, leaning against the same wall that I was. We were deep in Northside, the area above Watson. Meaning that we were deep into Maelstrom territory. “I see you sneering at the corps. Or is it the girls?”

“More partial to redheads and I’m not musically inclined enough to become a Rockerboy,” I returned, bantering as we waited for the others. The sun had gone down and the streets were slick with rain, but the city was as bright as it ever was. With twenty million people, there was so much light pollution that you couldn’t see a single star inside city limits.

“So you don’t want to go the way of Silverhand? Play a few songs then nuke a building?” Lock pestered, earning a shake of the head from me. Silverhand had been the best known of the Rockerboys -- a movement of musicians that preached against the megacorporations that plucked at the strings of the world. It was a synonym for rebels, basically. And the rebellion was lost.

Corporations controlled the world. Every president of the NUSA had been a former CEO of one corporation or another. Money was power and the corps had the money, the firepower, and now entire teams of capes at their beck and call.

“Nah. In the first place, I only pick fights when I know I can win. Secondly, you can’t copy a legend’s exit like that… not that it did a damn thing in the end. Asaka tower is still there, after all,” I responded, scratching at the back of my ear where my neurodeck was.

Lock reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, “So, I’m hearing that you would go bigger for your exit?”

“Course.” This was Night City. If you wanted to be someone, then you had to one-up everyone else. If you wanted to be a bigger legend? Then you had to go bigger and crazier than anything they had done. “I’ll probably go for the moon. Rob it, or something,” I said, waving off an offer for a cigarette while Lock lit one up.

“There’s an idea,” Lock commented, taking in a deep breath before we both saw a set of headlights appear, pulling into the alley where we stood. The headlights flashed at us, confirming it was our pick up. Lock tossed the cigarette down, stamping on it before he led the way.

It was a busted-up car that still looked too nice for any of us to afford. Meaning, it was probably stolen.

A guy leaned his head out of the window, “Lock! V! Pile in,” he ordered. He was older than us, in his early twenties to our late teens. When I opened up the backdoor, I saw two others. I knew their names, even if I didn’t know them well. Casper and Cosmo -- twin brothers that were a grade higher than me and Lock. Sliding in, I nodded a greeting at them and closed the door.

As soon as we were in, Casper looked back at us from the passenger seat. “You ready for this?” He asked the two of us. The answer to that was a responding no, but it was way too late to back out now.

“I will when I get my iron,” I said instead, earning a grin from Casper before he opened up the glove box to retrieve two pistols. He handed one to me so I could inspect it. It was hardly the first time I had held a gun, but it always caught me off guard at how deceptively heavy they were. I popped the magazine and pulled back the slide to see that there was a round in the chamber. All there was to do was take the safety off and shoot.

“Don’t play with those things. Only shoot when I give the signal, got it? We go in, we rip off the deal, then we delta the fuck out of there without anyone being the wiser,” Jonah, the man behind the wheel started to explain as we drove through the city. Thanks to anti-collision software and self-driving cars, people were able to speed through the city. Which made it dangerous to be a pedestrian, but the general consensus was that if you got hit then it was your fault. “V, you’ll be hanging back. Casper, give him the chip.”

Casper did as instructed, passing me a chip. Taking it and slotting it in, I saw a screen appear before my eyes. I didn’t have any optic implants -- they were just too expensive for me. Instead, I had much cheaper contacts that were synced with my implant. The screen itself was a data packet, recorded conversations, and so on. I did a quick scan while Jonah summarized.

“There are a few spells in the deck, you’ll use them to provide cover. I wouldn’t bother trying to hack into anyone’s systems, their ICE will be too much for a quickhack. Just focus on the environment,” he said while I pulled up the daemons, or spells, or whatever you wanted to call them. Nothing special, really. Then I pulled up the deal that we were going to hit.

It didn’t feel real until I saw the transcripts. A deal between the Maelstrom and the ABB for implants. The Maelstrom operated on two ends of the spectrum when it came to implants -- either they were using something that belonged in a trashcan or they ripped off high-end tech from Militech or someone. There was no in-between. The fact that they were buying from the ABB told me that they were trying to get their hands on premium tech.

"Will do. Do we know what they're buying? I'm not seeing anything beyond vague allusions," I questioned, scrolling through the data. I did see a price tag, though. A hundred thousand eddies. Either that was a lot of mid-tier mods or one top of the line one.

"No clue. The job is to make sure that it doesn't get into Maelstrom’s hands. When we snag it, we can find out what, then we can look for a buyer for some extra eddies. Also, general rule -- looting rights. If you pick it up, it's yours. If someone picks up some shit that you want then trade for it," Jonah explained.

The ABB didn't have a tinker, so it was unlikely tinker-tech-

Lock shifted in his seat, sparing a glance at me before he spoke up. "We have a fixer?" He questioned, sounding a bit caught off by the news. "Who?"

A fixer. Basically, a middleman that arranged jobs. A client would contact one, who would then contact a Merc for the job. It sounded like an extra step, but it was a blanket of security for both the client and the Merc. We didn't need to know why the product needed to stay out of Maelstrom’s hands and the client didn't need to know who did the job, thus ensuring that we didn't become loose ends to tie off.

"Wakano. She's the only one that'll touch no names like us," Jonah offered the name while I began to close the files.

I glanced out the window, watching the city stroll by as we made our way to the meeting site. A question was on the tip of my tongue, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Something just wasn't quite right with the picture. I wanted to ask, but I knew better than to. I would just have to keep my guard up.

Because, if we were no name trash, then we shouldn't have gotten our hands on this info. Not unless we were completely disposable assets. And… if the job was to keep it out of Maelstrom’s hands, meaning it was dangerous… then why would she turn around and let us sell it to the highest bidder?

Yeah… yeah, that reeked of bullshit. Jonah was a liar, of that much I was certain. It was just a question of what he was lying about.

I looked at Lock to find that he was nodding along, buying the story. He missed my look, but I resolved to make sure that we were both ready for when this went to shit. One way or the other. It was far too late to get cold feet…

And you couldn't become a legend by only ever playing it safe.

We arrived a few minutes later with Jonah flicking off the headlights before rolling the rest of the way. Arasaka's docks weren’t a place anyone wanted to be at night and they operated on a sliding scale of awful. The closer you got to Arasaka's private dock, which was the closest dock that was nearest to the heart of the city, the better guarded and equipped the guards were. You so much as look at a shipping container and Arasaka would hunt you down to the ends of the earth.

The further away you got towards city limits? You had a different kind of danger. They were docks that belonged to gangs in every way but name. Everyone used them but they were officially Empire 88 territory but that was a loose officially. After all, could it really be yours if you were forced to open the door every time someone asked because if you didn't, they'd just go through the door and take the house themselves? Ironic that racist and purist when it came to mods ended up neighbors to the Maelstrom, men, and women that modded themselves out to the point that some of them were Borgs. Or people that only had a few fleshy bits left from turning them into complete androids.

Jonah came to a stop, parking the car behind a storage crate next to a wall. Out of sight from where the deal was happening. The deal itself would take place in one of the many warehouses that covered the docks, so the spot was near perfect for a quick exit when we had what we came for. I got out of the car and flicked the safety off, the others doing the same. Cosmo and Casper were the best armed with submachine guns.

The oldest of us looked over, making sure that we were all ready. He checked the time before nodding to himself, "The deal will be starting soon. We get in quietly and get in position. By the time they realize we're there, it's too late." He said, earning a round of nods. I took in a slow breath, feeling the weight of my pistol before I reached down to around my neck and pulled up a breathing mask. Just to help obscure my identity.

Crouching low, Jonah led the way towards the warehouse. The twins were next with Lock following them and with me bringing up the rear. Looking ahead, I saw a security camera on the edge of the building. For the most part, the systems were isolated. It was a basic security measure, but if it worked then there wouldn't be any hackers to begin with. In this day and age, no such system was an island. There were always cracks to slip into, signals to hijack.

The camera was jacked into the main systems, and the main systems that monitored everything from security to temperature were isolated. However, each warehouse was hooked into an alarm system that would alert the NCPD if tripped. That signal was encrypted with ICE. What wasn't was the signal that went to the manager of the warehouse that would alert him if the security measures were tripped. That signal was far less encrypted.

Poking it with a probing signal, I latched onto the data signal that gave real-time updates and, in a second, I was granted the keys to the castle. I was in direct control of security -- there was a redundant system that I needed to worry about that would activate if I did anything too overt, like deactivating all security measures. To grant myself the authorization to do that, I would need to jack directly into them. And even that was a bad idea considering that they had already done that since they were here.

Instead, I just tripped the zoom function that caused the camera to miss our approach to the building. We lined up on a wall, putting us out of sight of the camera, so I switched through the feeds. I was granted a view of the interior of the warehouse -- there, I saw that the ABB was already inside. They had a humvee parked in the center of the warehouse, the walls were lined with shipping containers with walkways going over them.

I didn’t dare ping them. Too risky. Reaching out to their systems and shared communication could lead back to me if it didn’t go unnoticed. Instead, I switched between the camera feeds as I followed the crew. What I did do was alert the others to the ABB members I could see. There were three of them in total, likely an agreed-upon amount, and all of them were arranged around the car protectively.

My heart was starting to hammer at my ribs as Jonah crouched down as we hit the edge of the building. He looked to me before he gestured upward. Looking up, I saw a window in the second story, likely the office of the building. Looking back down at Jonah, he made a questioning gesture.

Right. I glanced around -- the docks were the lifeblood of Night City, so everything was always packed. Excess shipping containers were darted around, as were boxes and the like. Worthless junk, the kind of stuff that the warehouse didn't care if they lost if it meant better cargo was protected. Unfortunately, they weren't dumb enough to offer a straight path to the second story.

I could make do, though.

Nodding before he gestured to the other to follow him. I felt… singled out, which wasn’t a good thing because I had serious doubts about the gig now. But it was also a part of the plan. I just had to hope that my reflexes were good enough to avoid getting myself covered in shit when it hit the fan.

They all moved into position while I did the same. There was no way to the window, but there was a way to the roof. Climbing up an empty shipping container on the corner of the building, I stepped into a thin ledge that was barely enough to fit half a foot on. Still, it was large for me to dart forward to reach out to the outcropping that traced the edges of the building. Asaka meant for them to give the warehouses a futuristic look way back in the 20s, but instead, they made perfect handholds.

Shuffling up the building, I made my way to the roof, narrowly dodging the camera that was tucked in the corner. The roof was half-covered with trash, but it did have a convenient skylight. And an antenna. Walking to it, I reached down to my left wrist and pulled out my personal jack cord that was embedded in my wrist. Jacking in, I was able to directly interact with the systems and there I found that none of the ABB were a netrunner. Either that or they were so good that I couldn't find a trace of them.

Deciding caution was better, I limited my presence. I opened the backdoor for Casper and Lock and pinged them to go through it. I did the same with the skylight, allowing me to climb down into the building and settle down on a crosswalk soundlessly.

The others pinged me, telling me their positions. Then we went dark to avoid any suspicion. I flipped through the feeds, keeping an eye on the ABB.

Three Asians dressed in ABB colors. Each armed with an assault rifle. The van looked kitted out too, so probably bulletproof. Considering what we had, it might as well be a tank. Couldn’t tell what implants that they had, but I was seeing some tech -- tech lines that ran across their faces, and one had what looked like implant sunglasses.

All three of them went stiff when the sound of music blasting steadily got closer. I ducked down so low that I was practically laying on the floor. Through the lens of a camera, I saw the Maelstrom approach. They pulled in with a car with the bass turned up so high it was like they were trying to cause an earthquake. Rolling to a stop, they killed the engine before they got out.

Three of them. Each one barely looked human. Cyberware protruded from their bodies -- their noses and eyes were gone, replaced with cyberware that glowed with a red light. One looked like they had most of their head replaced with head plates protruding against his skin. Wires and tubes weaved in and out of their bodies, connecting various mods that they had installed. They were all packing serious heat -- shotguns and rifles.

“Got something for us?” The leader of the Maelstrom questioned, resting a shotgun on his shoulder as he strode forward.

“Do you have something for us?” The leader of the ABB questioned, shifting her grip on the assault rifle that she held. There was a moment where they stared each other down, waiting for the other to make the first move. To back down. The Maelstrom and the ABB weren’t at war, but as a rule of thumb, no one liked Maelstrom.

While they had a pissing contest, the others slipped in unnoticed. They coordinated on my ques, moving up when I gave the signal to. Casper and Lock were coming up behind the ABB while Cosmo and Jonah lingered at the entrance.

Then the Maelstrom leader shrugged, “We have it. A hundred thousand eddies in cold, hard cash. And the goods?” He asked, taking a step forward as he carelessly ignored the tension to stick a hand in his pocket. He paid no mind to the guns that were now pointed at his chest in favor of taking a hit off an inhaler. Probably a battle drug.

The woman held out a hand, gesturing for the two at her back to lower their guns. “Then we have the product. Shinji?” She spoke, never looking away from the halfway borg. In response, Shinji went to the van while one of the Maelstrom went to the car. At that same moment, a message hit me from Jonah.

I read it and my heart dropped to my stomach. This was such a bad idea.

“Fuck it,” I muttered to myself, lifting my gun as I gave a green light. I knew exactly why the plan changed. I couldn’t say I wouldn’t be tempted to do the same. The others gave theirs in rapid succession and the gig was on. Jonah gave the signal not a second later, and I popped up from my position just in time to see Jonah step into view, aim a gun at the Maelstrom's head before he pulled the trigger.

His head snapped to the side, but he wasn’t dead. Just knocked on his ass. A briefcase of money fell to the ground while they all came in firing. Cosmo unloaded on the other two, filling the warehouse with the sound of gunfire. The other two jerked, bullets ripping through them. The leader whipped around, aiming his shotgun at Jonah.

I pulled the trigger and the bullet tore through his jaw, all but tearing it off. He jerked, throwing off his aim so instead of killing Jonah, the shot went wide. The only issue with that was Cosmo was behind him so buckshot slammed into him. Cosmo shouted as he whipped around, his finger on the trigger all the while so he sprayed bullets. That would have been the end of it, if Lock and Casper weren’t circling around. The ABB used the car as cover, still unaware of my presence, but that quickly changed when my gun bucked in my hand and took one of them down.

The distraction was enough that when Lock and Casper flanked, the ABB were shot to pieces. The Maelstrom leader roared as he fired his shotgun at Jonah, who circled the car, but the sound was nearly lost in the sound of gunfire. Taking aim at him, I fired at him while Lock and Casper did the same. Bullets tore through him, blood flying free, as did sparks off his mods, but he still refused to go down. I was right about the battle drug. The guy barely felt a thing.

But, even if he couldn’t feel a thing, his body couldn’t stand the onslaught of bullets. He collapsed into a heap, and I could only hope that he had flatlined. The firefight only lasted for a few seconds, but now that it was over, my ears were ringing and the silence was deafening. Swallowing it all down, I grabbed the railing and tossed myself down, first landing on a shipping crate and then on the ground.

Casper rushed to Cosmo’s side, helping him up. Blood dripped from his arm in a river, but he still had it attached. And his torso was fine. In a telling display of concern, Jonah zeroed in on the case with the money. Lock was too busy staring at a body of the ABB, so I went to the case that the ABB had brought. Wasting no time, I undid the clasps and popped it open.

Inside were OS neural plug cards. Five of them.

My eyes narrowed into slits, not recognizing them as any brand. They lacked any logo either, so they weren’t Militech or biotech. They slapped their logo on everything. That… didn’t leave many options. Wasn’t sure what they were, but the most obvious was tinker-tech. Which begged the question of why they would only be worth twenty thousand a pop. That was less than some bog-standard brands went for. Tinker-tech could go for so much more. Five times the price for one of them.

But that wasn’t important. I closed the case, clicked it close, and turned to Lock. He still stared at the body with a near shell shocked expression. “Hey,” I snapped him out of it, making him turn his wide gaze to me. “Grab their guns. We have to go,” I told him while I went down and picked up the assault rifle, prying it from Shinji’s dead hands. My pistol was tucked in my waistband.

“R-right,” Lock agreed, gingerly picking up the guns while I moved on. Jonah was looking at a case that had a deceptively small stack of money. A hundred thousand eddies was a lot, but the bundle was surprisingly small. I thought it would be a case full of cash, but there was only one, though it was fairly thick.

Jonah snapped it closed, “He’s right. We have to go,” he said, turning to Casper and Cosmo. The latter nodded, tucking his arm close to his chest while I grabbed the Maelstrom's shotgun and keeping the assault rifle under my arm. By laws of loot, both were mine now.

Casper threw Cosmo over his shoulder and practically dragged Cosmo out of the warehouse. A minute later, we were tossing the crates into the trunk along with all of the guns before piling in ourselves. I slid into the passenger seat while Casper and Cosmo got in the back, the former inspecting his brother’s wound.

“There were plug cards in the case. Five of them. No logos,” I told Jonah, my voice even. Lock had been right. The entire thing went faster than I thought it would. Barely seconds, really. I think my heart was pounding harder now it was over than the lead-up or during the actual fight. Jonah spared me a glance as we sped out of the area, hitting the road and rejoining traffic.

“You did alright back there. You sure this was popping your cherry?” He asked, and before I could answer, Cosmo groaned in pain, making me glance back at him.

“I’m pissing myself here. I just have a good poker face,” I admitted, my foot bouncing in place. I only realized how hopped up on adrenaline I was when it started to leave my system. Cold sweat dripped down my back, plastering my shirt to me. That startled a laugh out of Jonah before he reached out a thumped me on the chest.

“Could’a fooled me. If you’re going to run in this biz, then you need a damn good one,” he said, nodding to himself as he pulled off the main road and started heading down another street. “We got in, we got out. Everything’s all good-”

“The fuck do you mean all good?!” Casper snapped, “My brother got shot!”

“In the arm!” Jonah snapped back, “He’ll be fine. Hell, he can get a chrome replacement with his share of the scratch we made.” I glanced at him, then back at Cosmo, whose face was twisted into a grimace. Blood covered the upper half of his arm, soaking his shirt. Lock looked like he was about to puke. “We split the loot five ways. As agreed,” he added, sending a look my way. I offered a nod as I became all too aware of the pistol in my waistline.

“We should pull off instead of taking the loot straight back. It could have a tracker,” I added, and Jonah couldn’t pull off faster. The car bumped as we pulled into a parking lot, though half of the spots were taken up by cars that were stripped of parts. A group of homeless people stood in the corner and kept their heads down, knowing better than to even look up.

We got out of the car, and I didn’t fail to notice that Lock stuck close to me. Casper glared at Jonah, likely blaming him for the fact that Cosmo took a bullet meant for him. Jonah paid it no mind as he popped the trunk. First, he went for the money and started peeling it out. Every muscle I had was taut, ready to spring into action. If the reason for the bad feeling in my gut didn’t manifest during the fight, then the next best time was when we were dividing the loot.

It took a moment, but he counted it out. The first bundle went to me. A fat stack of bills and I tried not to think about how it was by far the most amount of money that I had ever seen in my life. I went to tuck it away, only to pause when I heard the sound of a gun cocking.

“I’m thinking a four-way split sounds better, J. For damages inflicted,” Casper snarled at Jonah, sticking a gun in his face. I finished tucking my share of the money away into my pocket while Jonah stared Casper down. I looked at Cosmo to see that a hand was at a pistol in his belt. Based on his expression, I’m guessing that this was preplanned.

Jonah was a liar. That much, I was certain about. Cosmo and Casper were still planning to split the loot with us, so that was a good sign. But, despite lying, I believed that Jonah told the truth about something -- that this was a job contracted by a fixer. Meaning, when she came sniffing around to find the merc that she hired. And possibly the items she wanted stolen, then I would be a part of the group that cut Jonah out, possibly killed them, and stole from her.

I could say that Jonah stole it first, but no one believed you when you blamed a deadman. Especially when there was a much more feasible explanation.

So, it was an easy choice. My hand whipped the pistol from my waistline to point it at Casper. He looked at me for a moment, clearly not expecting that, and in that same moment, Jonah lunged. He smacked the gun away from his face before he whipped out his own. A loud bang rang out as Casper jerked back, Cosmo shouting in horror as his brother was shot. He looked up at Jonah just in time to catch a bullet to the head.

My gun shifted, pointing it at Jonah’s face as he gazed down at the two bodies that he made. “You going to shoot?” He asked me, an edge in his tone.

“Depends on if you feel like narrowing the take down any lower,” I responded, trying to put the same edge in my tone. That was… I thought he was just going to shoot them. Scare them off. Not kill them. I didn’t know them well, so their deaths didn’t really hit me. Especially when it was far from the first time I’ve ever seen a dead body in this city.

Jonah looked at me, his dark eyes as sharp as obsidian with a gaze that cut right through me. In that moment, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he saw the truth. The truth was that I had absolutely no fucking clue what I was doing and I was just trying to fake it until I made it. Then he pointedly tucked his gun away in the back of his pant’s waistline. “Nah. I’m good. Three-way split sound good to you?” He asked, turning around to the trunk as if I didn’t have a gun to his head.

I debated pulling the trigger. An ice-cold decision that would net me more money than I knew what to do with. Instead, I lowered the gun. “Sounds good,” I agreed as Jonah peeled me off an extra bundle before splitting the rest of the cash with Lock, who numbly took it. It was better this way. I knew that.

Looking down at the bodies, I glanced over to the homeless people to find that they were gone. Probably took off running at the sound of gunfire. Blood was pooling… Damn. Lock looked like he couldn’t look away, leaving it to me to close the transaction. Jonah pulled out the cards, inspecting them with a frown. “You were right. No logos, so we have no clue what in the hell they do… but a deal is a deal. Five cards, and three of us. Someone isn’t getting an extra one, or we can keep them as a set.”

Lock found his voice, “I’m good. I don’t need a second one,” he quickly offered. Jonah spared him a look before he shrugged, probably guessing Lock’s thoughts as I did. Keeping them as a set would mean that we would work together again. And it would give Jonah a chance to betray us again.

“Fine with me,” he dismissed the issue, handing me two cards while Lock got one. After that, we grabbed our guns and hid them underneath our jackets as best as we could. “And that concludes our business.” He said, going to his car door. That didn’t sound like an offer to give us a ride back. He got in, fired up the engine, and started to pull out. Only to pause to roll down his window before I got a message. “Those are my detes. Send me a call if you’re looking to make real money again,” Jonah offered before he pulled out of the parking area. I watched his car go, the headlights pulling off before he zoomed away.

The moment he was gone, I took three steps to the left, making it to a pile of garbage that looked like it had been through the wringer long before I puked on it. I retched once, the awful pizza I had for lunch managed to taste worse on the way up than it had going down. Once I was done, I stood up and spat the taste out of my mouth. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Lock staring at me, not saying anything.

Our eyes met, and there was nothing to say.

“I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow,” I told him before I shoved my hands in my pockets and started walking.

…

I stepped into an elevator about an hour later. A megabuilding was what the name implied -- a massive skyscraper that was about as large as a city block that topped out at two hundred floors. They were mini-cities inside of themselves with floors dedicated to housing, then there were restaurants, stores, gyms, and so on. Anything that you could find out in the city, you could find in the building.

At twelve at night, the building was just as alive as it was during the day. I paid it no mind until a person stepped onto the elevator with me. A girl who hesitated to step onto the elevator the moment that she saw me. But, given that half of them were out of order and on a particularly unlucky day, it could take half an hour to get to a higher floor, she got on. She placed herself in a corner across from me like she was trying to avoid attention and in doing so, she caught my attention.

It was only then that I realized that I recognized her. Taylor Hebert. The girl that got shoved in a supply closet and who sent Greg to me.

Her gaze drifted to me and stiffened when she caught me looking at her. Her hands were in a ratty hoodie that was about two sizes too big for her, so she was practically drowning in it. Her pants and shoes weren’t much better. She looked about as broke as I did, so odds were she wasn’t packing a gun.

“You’re Taylor Hebert, right?” I questioned as the doors closed. Taylor’s lips thinned at the fact that I knew her name. “You sent Greg to me about changing his test score?” I tried and… shit, I completely forgot about that. So, I would have to stay up a little late. Had to follow through. Professional standards and all that jazz.

Taylor looked at me like she was trapped in the elevator with a snake. “You… have blood on your face,” she pointed out. So, maybe that was why. A hand went up to my check, only for Taylor to point to an inch above her left eye. Touching the same spot, I felt dried blood there. Probably one of the twins and…

Damn.

“...Thanks,” I muttered, wiping the blood away with a little spit. Though, at the cost, I couldn’t hide the guns under my jacket that were half-tucked into my pants. But I probably hadn’t been fooling anyone to start with. People just knew better than to ask or see anything in this city. “And, uh, I appreciate you sending Greg to me. Can never have too much money, you know?” I wasn’t sure why I was bothering.

I glanced down at my feet to find one of them was bouncing in place. My hands had the slightest tremble to them. Nothing that couldn’t be hidden by crossing my arms.

“Was it worth it?” Taylor questioned, her tone blunt. I glanced up at her to see judgment in her eyes, “Did the money make it worth it?” She pressed, her tone so damn sharp that it cut right into my soul. She didn’t know, but she knew.

I looked away, mulling it over as the elevator continued its rise. I had been asking myself the same question. The money… I never had so much money before. Thirty thousand… that was rent, food and style covered for the next… year. At least. Or, I could finally get some crome beyond the most basic of basic neural implants. The money… The money was flat out unbelievable. Unthinkable, even.

But the bodies of Cosmo and Casper wouldn’t leave my head. The ones on the floor? In the end, when they picked that life, they knew what they were signing up for. They knew how it would end one day. And I had to accept that one day, that ending awaited for me as well. A pointless, senseless death.

Taking in a deep breath, I let the back of my head rest against the wall. “Probably not,” I admitted. “But… as I see it… I’m dead,” I started, and I actually managed to get a reaction out of Taylor. She flinched ever so slightly, caught off guard by my little revelation. “The moment I decided that I was going to be more than some pissant that gets killed for someone else's gain -- gang, corp, villain or all three… then that’s the moment that I died. So… everything else is just extra.”

“That doesn't make it okay,” Taylor pointed out, and all I could do was shrug. There was no good answer. In the end, in my heart of hearts, I knew it was wrong. And dangerous. And stupid. And, without a shadow of a doubt, would get me killed when it was all said and done.

“It doesn't,” I admitted to her, meeting her gaze. “But I’ve decided that I’m the one that gets to decide who I am. I get to decide my worth -- no one else on this planet gets to tell me that. So, I decided… and now I’m just taking what I’m owed.” Money, respect, and fame. I wanted them. Craved them. All because I’ve never had them. I wanted to matter because I never have before.

The life that I had was shit and I wanted better. If I had to take it?

Then I would fucking take it.

Not a moment later, the elevator came to a stop on my floor. I spared Taylor one final look before I pushed off the elevator wall, “Nice talk. See ya’ at school,” I waved goodbye over my shoulder as I walked towards my room directly across from the elevator. I felt her eyes burning a hole in my back.

And, for some reason, I still felt like I was being watched when I fell face-first into bed.