A Hard Knock Life: The Pretender (ch. 16) (Patreon)

"Soldering tool?" I requested, holding out my hand and feeling the soldering tool pressed into my hand.

"Lug wrench?" Jackie requested in return, and I passed him the lug wrench that I had borrowed from him earlier to take out the guts of my bike. The two of us were in his garage, both working on our bikes. Mine was in more pieces than Jackie's, who was just working on his to tune it up. I had offered to work my magic, but Jackie had refused. Didn't want anyone touching his bike but him.

The guts of the bike were completely replaced. The steel that they had been made of was completely broken down and replaced with an engine of my own design. I wanted to keep the aesthetic of the bike, so I ended up with a surface level similar engine. On the inside, however, it couldn't be more different. The fuel efficiency was off the charts -- another roadblock I had found with my power.

I had wanted to just skip fuel altogether. Maybe go nuclear or something so I never had to worry about running out of gas. Yet, when I looked at the guts of the bike, all I saw were ways to improve the RPM, gas mileage, durability, weapon slots, and the like. I saw ways to make the optimal diesel engine. Not the optimal engine.

It was because of my lack of knowledge. My power… my power wasn't meant to be used on its lonesome, I realized over the past weeks. It was the fine tuner that tied other people's work together flawlessly. I'm sure, if it had been an electric engine in the bike, I would have had an optimal electric engine. And if it was tinker-tech? Who knows what I could do with it.

In the end, I could improve what was before me. Learning stuff met my power in the middle, letting me build stuff from scratch but it was clear that's not how my power was supposed to function.

"Still going to Vik's?" Jackie questioned me, making my eyes dart to the bones that were lying on my workbench on the other side of the garage. A humorous, minus the bottom half, a collarbone, a shoulder blade, and my top three ribs… All waiting to be implanted into my body. Each was a titanium base to help with rejection, further enhanced with microscopic crystal nanotubes created from a base of gold, lithium, and diamond dust. The insides of the bone already carried the dense marrow.

The designs for the rest of my skeleton hadn't been decided, but for what I was replacing, it could be removed and replaced with the MK. II version. After all, when I settled on the final design, I would be removing over two hundred bones.

"After I finish with this. Figure it would make a decent test run," I answered, putting the finishing touches on the OS card that would serve as the bike's chip. It was my old one now that I had a better model in my head. The OS card would house the systems that I had crafted better than a simple microchip could. "Need a ride to see Misty?"

"A man's first trip with a bike should be solo," Jackie refused. "Just give me a call if you need me to pick you up. Getting some bones removed… that's going to take a bit and you may not be up for the ride home."

I blew some smoke to disperse the steam from the soldering tool. "Replaced," I corrected.

"Eh, same thing. I gotta ask, with all those implants burning a hole in your pocket… are you planning to become a borg?" Jackie asked, and he wasn't the first to question that. Replacing my skeleton… in the end, it was just the best choice. Between my reinforced tendons that I would one day put into my legs, and how I would likely improve them… having an unbreakable skeleton was just the natural choice.

The Cortex Visual Support would go in my head eventually, but I needed better tools to work on it. I either needed to replace my organic arm or I needed to build a robot arm that I could control. Even if I worked on it, I would also need to replace my optics. Until I implanted some tailor-made ones, there wasn't a point to installing it because I would be able to feed information to it fast enough. It'd be like using a race car as a taxi. In Downtown. So long as it went in before my skull was replaced, then there wouldn't be any problems.

"Maybe," I admitted, really thinking about it. "I mean… if the option is there, and with my power, it's clearly going to always be the better pick… so… yeah, maybe." Once my skeleton was replaced, I could start thinking about my organs. Or my circulatory system. Or my nervous system. Then my muscles… then my skin.

Implants had reached the point that technology had long since surpassed natural biology. Biotech was trying to close the gap with every wet-tinker that they could snatch up, but the fact remained that tech was nearly always the clear superior choice.

"You could end up a cyberpsycho," Jackie pointed out. "Chip in too much too fast… next thing you know, you're running down a road bare assed and killing whoever comes close."

"Eh, I figure that if I up the number of sensors in the realskinn that I should be fine. I heard that a big part of it is that your brain isn't getting enough feedback, so it's sensory deprivation that causes it," I responded. Cyberpsychos had been around for some time, though no one really knew what caused the disease. The number of implants had something to do with it, clearly, but not much else. Theories ranged from it being a tinker-tech virus that was released into the Net to psychic breaks caused by tainted water and food.

No one knew the truth. Or, rather, those that did weren't sharing.

"Hopefully. By the time you're done… won't lie, V. You'll be one scary pendejo," Jackie admitted.

I let out a small huff, "I will be if I ever get my hands on serious tinker-tech," I agreed with him. And that was the end goal. To load myself up with tinker-tech grade implants. The best that I could find. I might not be able to throw around skyscrapers like Alexandria, but with the right tech…

As much as I would like to start cracking plots to rob Toybox of all their toys, that goal was unfortunately very far off. I hadn't even taken the first step yet.

Wiping off the soldering tool, I inspected my work. The card was seated in the heart of the engine, connected to it with a half dozen wires. Because the parts had all been 3D printed, the card slotted in nicely, almost as if the bike itself was a head port rather than a bike. Nodding to myself, I reached over and grabbed the seat that would cover the engine pieces. The old synthfoam seat slid into place with a click.

Jackie looked over, "Not bad. A little bit cheaty with the skill shard and a superpower," he teased good-naturedly. The bike needed a new coat of paint, the tires desperately needed to be replaced, the visor was cracked… but the guts of the engine were a shiny metallic gray rather than the rusty orange they had been before.

"Too early for congratulations. Gotta see if it works first," I said, walking to the garage door and pulling it up and open. The sky was a yellowish-gray -- warning that there was acid rain on the way. It had already rained some with, I saw with the ground being wet. That was fine. I grabbed my bike and pushed it out into the alleyway before I took in a slow breath.

There was no push to start. There wasn't a need. With a thought, the bike came to life underneath me. I smiled as I cast a look at Jackie, my OS saying that everything was all green. He frowned at the bike, "It seems quiet," he remarked.

"That's because it's in default sound mode," I informed, switching to a setting called stylish announcement. The engine shifted, the quiet hum of the engine became a throaty rumbling roar. "There's also this," I said, hitting the stealth mode. In response, the engine went so silent you'd think it was off. When I revved the engine, it barely made a sound and there was only a faint vibration in the bike.

Jackie let out a low whistle, "Alright, color me impressed. Sounds good. How's it perform?"

My grin grew a fraction. "10, 500 rpm, 850 hp," I answered. Before the skill shard, those words would have meant nothing to me. No, less than nothing actually. You could have said them to me and I'd be convinced you were speaking gibberish. "With the loud setting, I get a theoretical top speed of 600 mph. Default caps out at 200 and quiet is 100 miles per hour. And, with my gas efficiency, I get a thousand miles to the mile. Probably won't ever need to fill this thing up again in my life." A perk of CHOOH2 was that it didn't spoil, it couldn't or Biotech would have made it that it could.

"Why?" Jackie questioned me, sounding more disturbed than impressed.

"Why not?" I answered with a shrug. It was a perfectly valid answer. The truth of the matter was that I wanted a bike that could break the sound barrier. No real reason why. I just wanted a bike that could.

A huff escaped him as he shook his head, "You weren't touching my bike before, but you certainly aren't now. Don't know what you would do to my baby." Eh, he didn't know what he was talking about. "Can you even drive that thing?"

At max speed? No way in hell. "That's what the software is for. There's a gyroscope in the engine to keep things level, and it's hooked up with my OS, so I can drive it with that. Apparently, that wasn't the right answer because Jackie just shook his head and made a dismissive gesture while I got off my bike to scoop up my implants.

They were inside of a flat black case that I secured on the tail end of my bike. Looking to Jackie, he waved goodbye with a wrench, only to stop for a second. “V… we have to decide what we’re going to do with the truck,” he reminded me. I swung a leg over my bike, straddling it for a moment.

The loot that we ripped off the ABB. It was still in the storeroom. Ultimately, we decided it was best to let everything die down before we touched anything, but the time had come. Things had settled. Now… we had to decide what to do with the loot.

“I say we pick out the best of the bunch, I improve it… then the rest we just sell,” I figured, looking to Jackie and saw him nodding. No real surprise there. He hadn’t exactly made his thoughts on the truck unknown. Skitter was the deciding vote, in the end. And, since the deal, she hadn’t made contact or sent us a text.

“After we take our picks, then I’ll send Padre a text about making a deal. Known him for my whole life. So, if he bites, he’s good for it,” Jackie voiced, sounding like he already decided on a course of action. I nodded in acceptance, having no real problem with that so long as the price was right. Militech gear didn’t just drop into people’s laps all the time. “And our boss?”

My lips thinned, “He wants me to lay low for a bit. So, no jobs for me. You’re probably fair game,” I informed, earning a rueful chuckle from Jackie as he turned his attention back to his bike. I couldn’t see his face, but I didn’t like his scrunched up his shoulders were.

“I’m not a cape,” Jackie voiced. “Just a run of the mill merc,” he added. That… was true. Wasn’t any other way around it. Jackie wasn’t a cape. Lisa’s boss was interested in me and Skitter because we were capes. It wasn’t a matter of being nice or anything. It was just facts. Lisa… and her boss both had Jackie’s number. The order was for me to keep a low profile to avoid any PRT or corporation notice. Jackie was in the clear.

Yet, neither had called. And it was obviously starting to eat at the man.

I opened my mouth to say something, to offer up some reassurance, but I failed to find the words that didn’t sound like a total lie. Jackie seemed to sense that before he waved a hand at me. “You’ll be late for your appointment if you don’t go now. Even with that thing you call a bike,” Jackie spoke up, not looking at me as he continued to work on his own bike.

Swallowing a sigh, I muttered a goodbye before I leaned forward and revved the engine. The bike lurched forward, the engine begging to be unleashed but I kept it in check with my OS control. I gave myself a speed limit, so even if I twisted the handle all the way, I’d be stuck at seventy at the absolute most. Baby steps before I sprinted.

The OS in the bike connected with my optics, displaying waypoints on the road and guiding arrows to lead me to Vik’s clinic. It also had a driving assist mode to keep me stable and to help make the turns if I missed them. Still, it felt great underneath me. Without the dying sound of the engine, driving through the city was a hundred times more enjoyable. The wind rustled my hair, cooling me off on a hot muggy day.

If only the sky didn’t look like it was about to dump gallons of acid rain on the city, the entire experience would have been perfect. Even better, I was able to closely monitor my bike’s systems. Everything was running like a dream. Enough so that a slow smile tugged at my lips.

“This bike really can run on a hope and a prayer,” I remarked to myself, pleased with my work. It was a solid base to work with. With better quality materials, I could improve it further…

And there was the bottleneck once again. Materials. Unless I started tearing out drop boxes on the regular, I needed to look into more sustainable solutions. Option one was selling out to Lisa’s… boss. Which was not an option at all. The other was getting involved in conflicts and just loot the supplies that I needed -- I liked the option, but it wasn’t sustainable. Not in the way that I needed. Recycling was the obvious option, but it came with its own issues.

Transport of the materials for the most part. What I had going on right now was… alright. Not great, but very alright. Jackie’s garage was a decent starting workshop but, if I was going to advance, then I needed more. More space, more materials, and a dedicated method of farming valuable materials so I could tinker.

That wasn’t even touching on my coding. I hadn’t jacked into the Net since I took down the ABB datacastle. I didn’t dare to. Not when I saw that dragon living inside of it… and the fact that I was next to certain that it had been an AI. I didn’t know how else to explain it. Odds were, I had attracted it with how many flags that I had tripped emptying bank accounts, but… I didn’t want to step into the Net until I was ready. Until I was certain that I had carved out my own sliver of the Net.

Meaning my own datacastle. Meaning I needed servers.

I needed, I needed, I needed. I guess I knew what I was spending my take of the heist on.

I arrived at Vik’s not long after. Parking my bike in front of Misty’s place, I stepped inside with my case in hand. Misty looked up, her dull look becoming a slight smile when she saw it was me. “Hey’a Misty,” I greeted with a wave.

“V,” Misty returned, “here for you’re appointment?” She asked as I stepped inside, my head bobbing. “Vik is ready for you… but do you have a moment?” Misty asked, catching me off guard.

“Course,” I agreed, walking to the front desk. “Won’t even charge you for it,” I added, flashing a smirk. Misty was… an odd woman, in the grand scheme of things. Heavily into mysticism and spiritualism, enough so that it defined her, but she was also probably one of the few genuinely nice people I’ve ever met.

“Like I won’t charge you for the tarot reading,” Misty returned, pulling out her deck. I glanced down at it -- I still didn’t believe in the whole tarot thing. Not really. Even if I didn’t believe it, I couldn’t deny that her prediction had been eerily accurate. Tower, Death, Strength, and the Moon. And the more I looked back on it… maybe it was just hindsight confirmation, me just putting the pieced together in a way to confirm it…

The moon represented mystery and the unknown. And nothing was quite as mysterious and unknown as powers.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked, leaning on the counter as Misty set the deck to the side.

“Because Jackie has been talking to me,” Misty answered as if it should be obvious. And… fair. “About the things you two have been getting into. He keeps saying you’re about to become big leagues… and I’m a little worried,” she admitted. “So, I want to make sure that both of you aren’t going into something you can’t handle.”

I offered a shallow nod. I… if it made her feel better, I guess. She smiled lightly, glad that I was at least humoring her. She turned her attention to the deck before she set down the first card. And she instantly grimaced. The kind that almost convinced me that she hadn’t stacked the deck beforehand.

“Emporer reversed,” Misty began, looking down at the card. “A tyrant that seeks absolute control. Someone cold and unfeeling. Calculating.” Her eyes flickered to my prosthetic, which curled into a fist. But she didn’t question it in favor of pulling out another card. Her lips thinned as she set it down on the counter.

“The Fool reversed,” she continued, this apparently not going how she expected or she was one hell of an actor. “It represents… recklessness. An unawareness of one’s self and the harm of one’s actions can bring…. V…”

I nodded, “Yeah. These aren’t good cards, are they?” I questioned, offered a lopsided smirk to put her at ease. It was only a little forced.

Misty searched my face for a moment before her head bobbed, “They are… but that doesn’t mean that they are bad. The tarot is up for interpretation… and it’s only whole when it’s complete,” she reassured herself as much as me before she pulled another card from the deck. She set it down and some of the tension eased out of her.

“Chariot upright,” Misty spoke, “It represents… direction. Willpower… The ability to make a decision and see it through to the end. V, I think this might be your card,” Misty offered, earning a huff of laughter from me.

“The Fool suits me better, I think. At the end of the day… my core philosophy has a fair bit in common with a kid throwing a tantrum,” I remarked, earning a smile for my efforts to put her at ease. Finally, she pulled the last card and both of our smiles fell.

“The Hanged Man upright,” Misty uttered quietly. “It represents… sacrifice, considering the full tarot. Martyrdom, maybe… V… does any of this mean anything to you?” Misty questioned and my expression must have betrayed me. I opened my mouth to respond, meeting her eyes, and saw naked concern in them.

“You… and Jackie don’t have anything to worry about,” I reassured her, answering the question by not answering it.

To that, Misty shook her head, “That’s not true, V. You’re a sweet kid. I’m worried about you. Does… does Jackie know? Maybe we can help in some way?” She offered, but I leaned off the counter while I shook my head.

“Jackie doesn’t know, and it’s best if he doesn’t. I know he has my back… but this is something that he’s better off not getting dragged into,” I decided, offering a thin smile. “And I can handle myself. That’s why I’m here, Misty. So, when shit does hit the fan, I have a shovel in hand.” Misty searched my face for a long minute after that, her own lips pressed together into a thin dark purple line with her lipstick.

A sigh escaped her before she nodded, choosing to not argue with me. I kept my smile up until I left through the back door, heading to Viktor’s ripperdoc shop. My hand tightened on my case as I walked down the steps.

Misty… Misty might not be stacking that deck because each card had hit a little too close to home.

“V…” Viktor greeted, looking up. His eyes were hidden by his glasses, but it was clear that he still had reservations. Even after receiving and testing a bone to make sure that my body wouldn’t reject it outright or give me ridiculous amounts of heavy metal poisoning. I don’t think he was happy with the fact that it wouldn’t. “Are you sure about this?”

I walked down the steps, I held up the case. “I’m sure, Vik. Chip ‘em in,” I said, bringing the case over to him and setting it down on his desk. And, just to make sure, I threw myself in the ripper chair. Vik wanted to argue, but he chose not to. I think he was starting to realize that it didn’t work on me. Too stubborn by half. Instead, Viktor opened up the case to view the contents. My bones and a container containing my new tendons.

Cerberus would soon be more than just a decoration.

“Alright. For a full-on bone replacement, I’m going to have to knock you out. Can’t have you taking a peek when I start pulling ribs out. Don’t matter how bad you think you are, you aren’t above squealing when you see your insides and see someone taking them out.” So it was to avoid trauma rather than a medical reason.

“Sounds good to me,” I decided, watching Viktor inject a drug into his arm. To keep his hands steady, increase focus, and that kind of thing. A common ripperdoc drug.

Viktor jacked me into his system, plugging into my port behind my ear near my neck. Then he readied a syringe and plunged it into a vein. Almost instantly, my eyelids began to grow heavy. I think he told me to count, but by the time he told me, I was already out like a light.

…

I awoke groggily sometime later -- about two hours later, according to my HUD. A deep sigh escaped me as I forced my eyes open, hearing the sound of Viktor rolling his stool over to me, prompting me to look over at him. There was a slight grin on his face, the exact opposite of the frown he had worn before. “Everything go alright?” I asked him, starting to push myself up.

“Like a charm,” Viktor confirmed with a nod. “Collarbone, shoulder blade, top three ribs were all replaced. Reinforced tendons all attached like magnets, your rotator cuff was replaced with a biotic joint… honestly, I’m not sure why you didn’t just take off the rest of the arm at this point.” While he spoke, he watched me carefully as I inspected my arm.

The answer was because I didn’t need to. My OS was linked up with my biotic joint, both my shoulder and my elbow. I stretched out my arm, testing it. With the biotic joint in there, it felt like butter. Better than my old arm. There was no numbness or pain -- though, I did see a surgical scar that was pasted over with biogel. “It feels good,” I decided, continuing to stretch out my new and improved arm.

“Good. Now, I know how you might want to go out and test it out immediately but don’t. Give yourself a day or two, let your body adjust. And, I want you to take a hit of this every hour on the hour. Two huffs,” Viktor said, passing me an inhaler. I took two huffs of it, tasting cotton candy before he continued. “It’ll help your body with rejection and let things settle in.”

Well, I was already laying low… “Shouldn’t be any problem,” I agreed, tucking the inhaler away. I turned and grabbed my shirt before pulling it on, pushing my sleeve up to reveal my chrome before a hand went to my shoe. Inside was a nice bundle of eddies, however, Viktor was shaking his head. “I’m paying you one way or the other, Vik. Not just for the arm but for my genecamo and the flashers in my optics.” I hadn’t forgotten about that.

Just, by now, I knew the man well enough to know he’d never accept a briefcase of money. It was pride more than principles. So, instead, I would just overpay the man every time I got chipped. “And it’s not like I don’t have the money. So, take it. Before I use this new arm of mine to stuff it down your throat,” I warned.

He just sighed at that, "Twist my arm, why don't you," he muttered, accepting the stack of bills. "What are your plans today then?"

I shrugged, and I could feel the difference between my left and right arm. That was going to take some getting used to. It was a half-day for me, so I didn't have to go to school until twelve… "Would you mind if I chilled out here? I have school in like an hour."

That got a small huff from Viktor as he rolled away. "Sure thing, kid," Viktor said, clearly amused with the idea that would bother with school anymore. He didn't get it, so there was nothing to explain.

"And could I check out your inventory? I've been planning to upgrade my optics with some mods," I said, throwing myself back down into the ripper chair. In response, Viktor brought up the screen. My optics themselves had three mod slots -- three for each eye -- but the mods themselves were basically just lenses with programs or additional ram and GPU to work with. Bringing up his selection, I saw for the most part, it was fairly limited.

I would need my tools to upgrade the mods, but for now… right now I could just use a boost to my optics. Something to give me a little more of an edge when things went sideways-

The screen glitched out again and a few extra items were added to the list. I offered Viktor a smile, knowing that he was looking out for me. That was something I was still getting used to. Viktor just ignored me and focused on a boxing match that was playing on his screen.

I was starting to understand that Vik had an under the table menu that you had to earn the right to see. Or have the cash to buy anything on it. Because everything added to the menu was far better than what I had originally looked at.

Trajectory Analysis caught my eye first. It was by far the most expensive mod on the list at twenty thousand eddies. With it, I could predict trajectories off bullets and other things that I used. Linking it up with my left arm would be perfect -- with it, I could make whatever shot that I needed. However, as I looked at the mod's specs, my power started working up. Ideas were mulling around in my head, and before I could think better of it, I selected the mod.

Much like my optics, I could improve it with better programming and algorithms. With it, I could do more than just predict my attacks. I could predict the shots of an enemy as well. Viktor let out another small huff, and I guess anticipated my choice.

"Would you like to mess around with the code?" He asked, rolling to a storage container to fetch the mod.

"You know me too well," I confirmed. "Will I be able to chip it in today?"

Viktor nodded, "Modding and implants are two different beats normally. It just improves whatever's already underneath the hood." He explained, slotting the mod into the ripper chair to link them up. I was granted access to the mod’s code and programming.

And my lips thinned. What I was looking at wasn't the base settings. The item had already been tweaked and fine-tuned. Viktor seemed to pick up on my reaction, glancing at me. "Something wrong?"

"I… this doesn't have factory settings," I explained, looking up at him to see a small grimace pass over his face. A sigh escaped him because we both knew what that meant.

"Then it must have come from a Scav, then," Viktor admitted with a small shrug. "Look, V, I don't question where the implants come from. I just get a list from Regina of what she has on hand, and I buy it," Viktor explained, and I'm guessing that Regina was his contact in the city for implants. "Sometimes she has nothing but standard crap, and other times… well, she has something like that. We go way back so I usually get first dibs on anything. But… Regina isn't the type to work with Scavs."

"Moral hang-ups?" I questioned, earning a shake of his head. Scavs… out of everyone in the city, they were a special kind of fucked. The kind of fucked that had nothing even resembling a conscious, no morals at all. If it could make them an eddie, then they'd do it without a thought. Anything. Absolutely anything. Absolutely nothing was off the table with them -- implant harvesting kids? Selling baby organs? Selling BD's of men, women, and children getting raped and murdered in the most horrible of ways?

"Oh, no. Scav's aren't reliable," Viktor corrected. That answer was less satisfying but more believable. "Is that a problem for you?"

I held up my arm in response, "I can't exactly be throwing stones." I could admit as much to Viktor and myself. I hadn't exactly been too hung up on the moral quandaries back in that base when I had been down an arm and Oni Lee had dropped a replacement. The only reason I was really concerned now was the fact my bloodstream wasn't pure adrenaline and I didn't need the mod like I needed the arm. "It's good. Just caught me by surprise, is all."

The answer seemed to satisfy Viktor, who let me turn my attention to the code. I roamed my eyes over, searching for areas of improvement. It seemed that the previous owner had a similar idea to mine, but he was a far less gifted Netrunner. Jacking into the chair, my hands began to type out code -- deleting some snippets, rewriting others while leaving some parts alone entirely.

It was just touching up, for the most part. I had a time limit, so I couldn't dive deep into it. I could do that later after the mod was already installed since it would be hooked up to my OS. The response time was beefed up to take advantage of my OS card and Optics, while the parameters were narrowed to targeted objects. I didn't need to see the trajectory of every little thing. I'd probably drive myself crazy.

Thirty minutes later, the mod was good enough to be inserted. It was a simple procedure -- Vik just turned off my optics, popped one out, and slotted the mod in before putting my optic back in. Less than five minutes later, I was able to see again.

"How's it look?" Viktor asked as I blinked a few times, nothing triggering the mod. However, when I reached over and grabbed a pen, my optics highlighted it. Rearing my hand back, I saw the data appear on my eyes -- between the upgrades, I gave my Optics the first go around, and with the mod, the trajectory had a lot more data to work with. I saw the clear arc of where it would travel, as well as where it would land, then skid, an outline showing exactly how the pen would react to factors like wind, impact, and other things. In an air-conditioned basement, there wasn't much that could disrupt the arc. It could be less accurate in the world.

Changing the angle changed the arc of flight as well as the point of impact. Rolling the pen in my fingers did the same, changing the impact as well. Turning to Viktor, and looking beyond him to his desk, I took aim at the glass mug filled with pens. An arc was picked for me, and all I had to do was toss the pen at the recommended settings, which I could perfectly because of the prosthetic and my biotic joint. The pen sailed through the air, hitting the lip of the desk before spinning up, bouncing once, then landed perfectly into the cup.

"I'll be damned," Viktor muttered while I smiled to myself. My biological muscles were the last thing that were holding my left arm back, really. With synthetic ones, I could make the shot instantly, almost independent from my mind even.

"Thanks, Viktor," I said, sliding out of the chair. "I'll have the money the next time I stop by. Is that okay?"

To that, Viktor offered a cheeky grin. "What do you mean, V? You already paid," he decided, rolling away from me, meaning the money I had already given him. I… should have seen that coming. I had overpaid, just not by much. Meaning I still owed him for either the gene camo or the mod. Annoying, but I could admit that he had me.

"Haha," I muttered, I would just have to try again later.

"Off to school?" Viktor asked as I started heading towards the gate.

"... Nah," I decided. "Not feeling it," I lied as I continued walking. "See you later, Vik."

Going back to school had been the plan, but with my new implants and mods… and that tarot reading… it hadn't been a full lie. I wasn't feeling school at the moment, even if it was too late to call in and I would be marked with an unexcused absence. The first time since high school began. It bothered me a bit, just not enough to go.

Getting back on my bike, I revved the engine once before I took off, marking a destination on my map. My bike shot off, and I left it on autopilot, for the most part, to let my mind wander and to rest out my mod. My focus would be on a vehicle, and I could track where it was going. Based on speeds and direction, I could even predict where it would be in a certain amount of time. The kinks needed to be ironed out… no, not kinks, but I could certainly further improve the system.

It was a good start, I decided as I drove through the city. The city had an acidic smell to it, mixing with the smog and garbage -- you went nose blind to it after a while, but acid rain threw something new into the mix so you became aware of the stench again. Testing out my optics was a good distraction, and so was getting to the new parts of my body. My shoulder felt… efficient. Not natural like my other one.

Viktor was right. I would need a couple of days to get used to it, I thought as I drove around the edge of a car that was at the tail end of a long row of cars. I drove by them all before taking a right, joining the flow of traffic that flowed over a bridge that would take me to the western side of the river that divided the city.

Before long, I arrived at my destination -- a flat, squat but wide building on the edge of the city in Arroyo, or the industry sector of the city. It hugged the straight of the river, leaving Japantown to the north and Pacifica to the south. Pacifica… that was a bad part of the city. Bad enough that the city itself was calling it a lost cause and were trying to sever it from the city entirely, or getting it labeled a combat zone.

The only thing stopping them was the potential for tourism in the section of the city. Sure, it would need some spit, elbow grease, and a new coat of paint -- but Pacifica was meant to be the tourism district. Rollercoasters, shopping malls, hotels, and resorts -- all of it was all built. The only issue was that the city was completely controlled by gangs. As in completely controlled -- no government official represented it, the cops didn’t patrol it, and if they labeled it a combat zone then they could just kill everyone there and call it a win.

The only reason that they couldn’t? Or, rather, wouldn’t? In Night City, with a population of twenty million, the city had close to a hundred capes. Officially. Unofficially? That number was a lot higher. And a lot of them seemed to live in Pacifica -- each carving out a few streets of territory and butting heads with the streets around them. A true free-for-all so fucked that corporations didn’t try to sweep in and scoop them all up. They didn’t like their chances.

Shaking my head of the thoughts, I headed to the transport truck-sized storage unit. With my cyberkey, the door opened with a swipe, revealing the truck that we had stolen from the ABB. Just as it looked as the last time we were here. With my bike rolling in after me and parking itself in the corner, I walked to the truck to open up the back of the truck.

Inside of the back were boxes and crates -- piles of them. Tens of thousands were of eddies. Maybe more. That didn’t matter to me at the moment. Each box was labeled, and with the manifest, I was able to find what I was looking for with some ease. Grabbing a flat black crate about the size of a footlocker and placing it on top of a crate filled with guns, I cracked it open. Inside was a Flathead, or a Militech MT0D12 "Flathead”, to be more precise.

It was an experimental stealth and reconnaissance bot. Titanium-fiber actuators on its six legs gave it vertical mobility, so it could climb on walls and even the ceiling. The flathead of the bot had a high rez camera, but it was a short thing. On the back of the head was a gyroscope that acted as the base for the back legs, and an additional two that spouted from the joint of the back legs. It also had a dynamic camouflage armor, making it next to invisible to the naked eye.

Of everything that we had gotten from the loot, this was the best thing by far. It was pretty much the perfect tool for a Netrunner. Because I could sync up with it and control it remotely with my neural implant… even if I couldn’t have anything else, then this was what I wanted. Jackie could sell the rest for all I cared.

Booting the bot up, it unfolded itself from the foam slot that it inhabited, a dull white light emitting from the front of the bot. It went through a systems check while I jacked into the bot, checking out the software. As I expected, I could tweak it. To really make it shine, I would need specialized tools. Still, I could work with what was there. And there was a lot there.

I synced up with the bot, seeing through its optics with one of my own. It was dizzying, but that’s why I wanted to practice now. Turning away from the bot, I controlled it as I walked away -- it was a bit like making someone else walk while I was walking, but it was easy enough to manage once I got used to it. I nudged it forward as I left the back of the truck, carrying its case with me. The bot jumped onto the wall before it started crawling after me, sticking to it.

It crawled over the truck soundlessly, making its way towards me as I affixed the crate to my bike. It leaped to the ground, scuttling over it, it made its way up my bike and back into the crate before I deactivated the link. A quick little test run to see how it worked. And it worked like a charm.

“You,” I began as I closed the crate, “are exactly what I need,” I continued as I closed the latches. With the Flathead, I could get into systems that I normally wouldn’t be able to. Like, for example… the Undersiders apartment.

The place was protected by tinker-grade ICE. The kind of stuff that Breach and Ping were not able to mess with. Whereas normal code was… stagnant, tinker-grade Black ICE was ever-shifting, ever adaptive. It would be like threading a million needles in the middle of a hurricane, while drunk, and with someone constantly trying to slap the thread out of your hands. And the cost for a single mistake was certain death.

Especially considering that I had made the deal with Lisa. She got half of Breach’s base code for the first shipment of Dense Marrow and the biotic roter in my shoulder. She would get the other half when I received payment in full. Meaning, I had bought myself some time.

Time to find out who Lisa’s slave master was. Time to find where he was. And time to kill him.

Doll implants were exactly what the name implied -- whoever got the implant could become a doll. If her boss wanted to make her the sweetest girl alive? Then she would be the sweetest girl alive. If he wanted to make her an utter bitch? Then that’s how she would act. The doll implant fed the user instructions on how to speak, how to act, how to position yourself, what to do… and one of them was in Lisa’s head.

I didn’t particularly like Lisa. Honestly, she was annoying as fuck and a complete bitch to top it all off. But, being a bitch didn’t mean you deserved something like that. To be puppet’d by someone else. It rubbed me wrong in all the wrong ways… especially considering that I knew if I pushed my luck, then eventually her boss would do the same to me. I was already giving him reasons to.

The tarot reading loomed over me as I got back on my bike. The Magician, the Fool, the Chariot, and the Hanged Man. It wasn’t a good reading, all things considered. According to the tarot… I was probably going to die to snip the strings on Lisa and the Undersiders. And if I did…?

Well… then I guess I died.