Never Fade Away: I'm Not One For Reminiscing (ch. 12) (Patreon)

My location was near perfect. Pacifica was the worst part of Night City according to anyone, enough so that the Mayor of Night City was doing everything short of sawing the district off of the city and shoving it in the ocean to get rid of it. It was sparsely populated, especially in comparison to the main city across the bridge, and the population that it did have was mostly concentrated in the main strip.

My building was on the fringe of the district, a stones through away from the Biotechnica fields that produced all of the food for Night City. Fields that were largely automated, so there was little concern about someone stumbling across what was becoming a private path between the building that I was living in and a back road that led to the fields themselves. That backroad, in turn, was connected to the highway that gave me quick and easy access to Night City’s dump.

Getting out of the car, I swept my eyes upward at the literal mountains of trash. The smell was indescribable, and it suddenly made so much sense why Becca had laughed when I asked what the smell was back during my early days of being out. I’m not even sure what I could describe the stench as, because it just burned my nose hairs with each breath. My eyes watered instinctively and it felt like I needed to wear a hazmat suit just to be in the area. The mountain itself was a mass of plastic bags, rusting metal, and loose debris.

I almost didn’t want to get out of my vehicle -- a freshly stolen Zeya 420 that no one would miss in Pacifica -- but I opened the door all the same, and without the airconditioning and air freshener, the stench was a million times worse. I coughed and hummed to avoid gagging. An old trick that I picked up in the orphanage. Walking up to the literal mountains of trash, I started grabbing bags and odds and ends before hauling them into the trunk of my Zeta. The carrying capacity was a little over three tons, but the back wasn’t big enough to hold that much in trash.

Overhead, underneath smog clouds that were tinged yellow, more dump deliverers deposited more trash upon the peaks of the mountains. All of it went ignored by me as I focused on throwing everything that I could in the back -- trash bags, plastics, and pieces of metal that I could actually lift. I was only mildly surprised to find a rotting arm amongst the trash, but the rest of the corpse would remain buried because I didn’t find it before I decided to load up and head back.

The car shifted when I broke off the main road to take the back road, my hands on the wheel as I guided the car down the dirt path that I had been carving out. GPS wouldn’t help me here, so I clenched the wheel with white knuckles, careful to avoid crashing and slowing down to a near-unbearable thirty miles an hour. I made it after a fifteen-minute trip, allowing me to roll up onto a busted road that was more uneven than sandstone, before heading down into the parking garage.

Taking the mask off of my face, I got out to give my new home a once over to make sure that everything was where it should be. My cameras didn’t pick up any alerts while I was out, but my security systems weren’t so beefy that they couldn’t be subverted. However, with a quick glance, I saw that everything looked the same -- bed was still unmade, everything was still on the shopping racks I borrowed from a store that looked like it had never opened, and the shelves I set up were still full of odds and ends.

What stood out the most was the GN Generator that was at the heart of the garage level. The core of the machine was built and my system checks showed that it should work in theory. It was enough to commit to building the flywheel and connecting it to the generator -- the flywheel would suck in photons, harnessing energy from them, and the decayed baryons would be spewed outward. Because of it, I built a containment field around the GN Drive to avoid the baryons showering my home.

That, and to hopefully mitigate the damage if it, you know… exploded.

My initial estimates for the size were off by a decent amount because it was as large as the garage that I initially tried to build it in. Around it were cables and wires that were slotted in and out of the drive and next to the containment field was my desk with a computer on it to test the systems and check the software.

Everything looked like it should. No intruders so far. Taking that as a sign, I popped the trunk to the Zera open and started hauling the garbage out of it and taking it to the Material Recycler. The batteries were still there and the pile was a lot bigger now. The electricity in the building was turned on, passively fueling them, but the building itself couldn’t meet the demands of the recycler without something breaking. Usually in a shower of sparks. Still, the batteries filled up quickly, though.

Because of it, I was able to burn through the latest haul from the dump. The Material Recycler spat out cubes of materials almost continuously -- plastics, minerals, metals, and biological material. The cubes were neatly sorted in crates that I had laying around near the fabricator. Some were fuller than others, but I had a decent stockpile to work with. Little by little, the back of the car got emptier as the cubes started to stack up and I updated the stockpile as I went.

“Titanium, gold, steel, aluminum, tungsten…” I muttered, making adjustments to the list to add the additional weights that I had. Then I compared it to the blueprint and the calculated materials needed to finish the GN Drive. Green across the board. “Finally,” I breathed, eagerly hauling blocks to the Fabricator to start putting the finishing touches to the project. I had been blitzing the project for days now -- running out to the dump for supplies, converting them, then building parts and tools.

Under normal circumstances, I would have been making incredible progress, but it felt so slow and sluggish. Especially when I felt a potential deadline looming over my head and I was so close to reaching the second stage of production that was only hampered by my electricity demands. So, I shoved the materials into the fabricator and started fabricating parts and as soon as they were done, I was taking them to the GN Drive to slot them in.

Hours went by as piece by piece, the Mk.1 of the GN Drive was assembled. The computer went through the system checks with each piece I slotted in, allowing me to turn my brain off and lean into the mechanical side of construction. The end never felt like it was in sight until I was bolting in the final plate and I realized that it was finally, at long last, done.

I was covered in grease and smudges and sweat, but I paid it no mind as I left the containment field around the Drive and went to my computer. Going through a final batch of system checks, then double checking them by tediously going down the list to make sure that the green lights should actually be green. That took another hour and a half, but by the end of it… the start button was looming.

“Please don’t blow up,” I requested of the machine, my gaze flickering to the sensors around the Drive. If the machine heard me, it gave no indication before I pressed the start button, and for the first time, the GN Drive began to boot up. The Flywheel began to slowly spin as the GN generator started to warm up, going through the early system checks. All green. Then it started fulfilling its intended purpose.

I watched in awe as red sparks of light began to escape the Flywheel as the GN Furnace began its work. It was mesmerizing. The red specs of light were funneled upwards before fading out of existence, the containment field almost becoming completely filled as the specs of light bounced off the containment glass. I forced myself to look away and focus on the computer screen to check the output for the GN Drive and a slow smile spread on my face.

Six hundred and fifty-three thousand watts. Several times what I needed to get out of it.

That smile was promptly wiped off my face when an alert appeared on my screen -- Emergency: Radiation detected.

Reacting instantly, I immediately killed the GN Drive and it took about half a minute for the Flywheel to stop spinning. The test gave me a lot of data to sort through, but I was focused on the radiation and what was causing it because it shouldn’t be there.

A charge has been used!

Gundam: GN Drive -- 2 (+1)

The issue leapt out of me the moment that I saw it. It was an issue with the GN Furnace itself and how it was harvesting energy from photons which, in turn, made the GN particles toxic. I think. Probably. I would have to get into the machine itself to make sure, but it seemed to be the most likely cause. The issue was that I couldn’t really do anything about that for the moment -- I needed the electricity.

“It’ll do for a Mark One,” I decided, looking at the data. Any improvements that I could make to the Drive would have to wait for Mk.2. For now, I drew up designs to contain the radiation within the containment field and printed them up with the fabricator. Not perfect, but it would do.

Even as I felt exhaustion starting to pull at my attention, I immediately leaped into stage two of development. One recycler and fabricator was a good start, but the next largest bottleneck was how fast I could create items and recycle materials. I had enough electricity to power dozens of each now -- I had really overshot on what I needed, but better too much than not enough -- but that seemed excessive. With the materials that I had, I started printing out parts for the Mk.II Material Recycler and an additional fabricator.

The fabricator that I had was good for smaller items, I’ve learned. The next one was designed for items of a larger scale.

My attention was only broken when my nose got so congested that I could hardly breathe through it. And that was the hint I needed to finally decide to print something else out of the fabricator. Several things, really.

A Charge has been spent!

Cyberpunk 2077: Cyberware -- 3 (+1)

All of this was to prepare for what was coming -- freeing Subject Zero. So far, there was no chatter about it. I had the Skeleton Key shifting its way into the Wayward Home for Girls subnet, and beyond confirming the ‘adoption’ was coming, there was nothing on a time. That, I suspected, was intentional on Militech’s part, to prevent exactly what I was planning. So far, I got by with the tech that I had -- a basic cyberdeck and organic parts.

It was time to get an upgrade while I still could.

The fabricator spat out my designs after a few passes and I uploaded the soft to each of them. My own personalized Cyberdeck received a personalized OS that I had crafted. Two new Optics of my own design were meant to sync up perfectly to my OS, which would in turn be connected to a Visual Cortex Support. A Ballistic Compressor for my gun hand that would double as a Smart Link for smart weapons -- mostly for the sake of preventing them from being able to target me.

If Doc had anything of note, I would chip it in, but that was the extent of what I had ready between designs and software.

Loading everything up, I spared one final glance at my home before I head out.

…

‘David?’ I spoke, ringing David up as I stood in Doc’s office, looking around the place.

‘Something wrong?’ He questioned, sounding tired. That was fair. It was pretty early in the morning. My immunoboosters also tended to fight against a lack of sleep, so I was feeling fine.

‘You could say that. You’re going to need a new ripperdoc -- Doc’s dead,’ I informed David, looking at what was left of the man that was collapsed against a wall, the entire top half of him reduced to bloodied bits. I might have thought it was someone else, but his near-signature pocket pussy was still pumping up and down on his crotch. Blood splashed over the wall and the ceiling, a pool of blood and guts forming underneath his corpse. ‘Place looks ransacked. I’m looking into what happened.’

“Shit,’ I heard David say, sounding far more alert as I rounded to Doc’s computer. The place looked completely picked over, nearly everything was gone, from Doc’s specialty items to the trash that no one in their right mind would chip in. That gave me an idea of who was behind this. ‘He was- ah. Not important. Alright, I’ll find another ripper. You need one soon?’

‘Preferably,’ I responded, slipping past Doc’s security with relative ease. Breach was getting beefier as an ICE breaker. Pulling up the most recent video feed, I scrolled it back until the scene of the crime happened. And, as I suspected, Maelstorm was involved. Three men and Doc. No audio -- something that had to be a deliberate choice on Doc’s part -- but the conversation started heating up. Then it abruptly ended when one of the Maelstorm members revealed an arm cannon that blasted Doc to pieces.

Up until my arrival, it was them cleaning house of every implant they could carry. Made about eight trips in total. They left an hour ago, and no one had been inside since I arrived.

‘Maelstorm did it,’ I informed, going through Doc’s messages. ‘Argument about implants,’ I added before I stumbled across a message between Doc and Dum-Dum. The argument was, more specifically, about implants that I had brought in from the last batch of corpses a week ago. Doc wanted it, but Dum-Dum already had a buyer within Maelstorm. Doc pressed and got flatlined for it.

‘Idiot,’ David sighed on the other end. ‘Just spoke to Regina about a ripper that she trusts. Gave me a name -- some guy called Vik. Said he’s the best in the biz, but I’ve never heard of ‘em. Give him a scope?’

‘Will do,’ I decided. I’m not sure if this was my fault or not. Didn’t exactly feel bad for Doc’s death, but it felt like I was responsible in some way.

‘Regina is also wondering when she’s going to hear from you again. Says her phones been silent without you buzzing it for gigs,’ David remarked as I headed out, looking at the address that he flicked me. The address was over in Little China, so a quick hop on the metro and I’d practically be there.

I wasn’t so focused on Subject Zero that I forgot about my ultimate goal. I still needed money and the fixer Kiwi introduced me to hadn’t given me a ring. Right now, I was waiting for Militech to make the transfer and avoiding V, but with the GN Drive Mk.1 done, I had more free time to work with. ‘After I get chipped, she can expect a call from me. I want a lineup of gigs and for them to keep comin’ until she runs out.’

‘Heh. I’ll meet you at the new ripper. Don’t go under until I get there. Doc was a POS, but I could trust him not to harvest me or my friends.’ David said as I made my way to the metro and took a seat. With that, David ended the call and I waited for the magcar to move and take me to my destination.

Little China was near identical to Japantown as far as I could tell. If there were any significant differences then they were lost on me as I headed to the given address. It was in a back alley on a row of stripclubs based on the look of them. Heading to the entrance, I passed some guy screaming about Alpha Centauri and space people. Giving him a wide berth, my GPS was telling me to go through a store. Inside was a rather odd-looking place.

“Oh, hello!” I was greeted by a young woman with light blonde hair, black makeup, and a choker. She perked up when she saw that I was taking the place in, the smell of incense heavy in the room. “You have some rather intense dark energy coming off of you,” she remarked, making a large Latino looking man sit up in a chair that was just out of sight at the entrance. Cyber lines on his face and throat. Carrying a pistol at his hip.

I’m pretty sure that she was telling me that I smelled. “I was converting photons into baryons and got sprinkled in a little radiation, but you should be fine,” I responded, approaching the front desk. My GPS was telling me that I arrived at my destination, but I wasn’t seeing a ripperdoc chair.

“Misty, and that’s Jackie,” Misty introduced herself, gesturing to Jackie, who eyed me with some caution. I met his gaze and offered a small nod -- I still didn’t get what the nod was supposed to mean, but I saw people do it all the time and no one could really explain it to me. Whatever it conveyed, it fell on deaf ears when Jackie returned the nod to me. “I know a ritual that could purge the dark energies in your life and welcome in clean energy to flow through your chakras.”

“My what?” I echoed, blinking in confusion but keeping Jackie in the corner of my eye.

Misty’s smile waned ever so slightly, “You’re not here for spiritual enlightenment?” She questioned and I just blinked again.

“I didn’t know that was an option,” I remarked, looking around the place again. It was different. Less flashy neon. A bunch of crystals and pentagrams. The posters on the walls were less posters and more diagrams. “What does spiritual enlightenment mean?”

“Oh, mano, you should not have asked that,” Jackie remarked while Misty perked back up after shooting him a look.

“It can be a lot to take in at first, but maybe I can ease you in with a tarot reading?” Misty questioned, reaching underneath the table and I went still. Which made Jackie go still with a hand on his pistol, looking at me like we were about to have a problem. Misty, however, seemed almost oblivious to it and instead of pulling out a gun from below the counter, it was a deck of cards. She looked at me, a question in her eyes, and I found myself curious as I relaxed a fraction. I offered a nod and Misty made a show of shuffling the deck.

As she shuffled, she explained, “The major arcana tarot tells the journey of the fool. Each card represents a stage in the fool’s life but contains its own meaning based on if it’s reversed and contextualized by the cards that came before and after it. With four cards, it can offer insight into your future.” Misty explained and that sounded… like a rather incredible power. Enough so I wondered why other people weren’t utilizing it in their everyday life.

She set the first card down and smiled at it, “The Magician upright. A connection between the realms of dreams and reality run through you. You possess the tools you need to make your will manifest,” she said and I went very, very, very still as she said that. Did she know? How could she possibly know that? Just when I thought she was very blatantly insinuating something, she moved on and set another card on the table.

“The Lovers upright,” Misty continued. “A connection with someone else that words fail to describe. A wholeness. Despite the name, it doesn’t need to be a romantic connection. Whats important is the connection itself.” Who could that apply to then? Subject Zero? Rebecca? David? M? A? I had a lot of connections with people, some deeper than others, but all of them were deep enough. I’d kill and die for any one of them.

“The Wheel of Fortune Reversed. Things will never be as they are forever. Good luck comes and goes, bringing you to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. You face such a moment soon. A moment which everything can be decided.” Misty continued- how much did she know? Was she stacking the deck? Was I reading too much into it?

“Lastly, the Devil Reversed. It represents release. Freedom. Seizing back control of something that you lost. Putting it all together… You stand before a great moment of change and success is determined not by luck, but preparation. Trust in the bonds you’ve forged and in the tools you’ve made, and you will be free.” Misty finished, smiling at me and seemingly basking in my stunned silence.

Jackie glanced at Misty, “Looks like you found a believer.” He remarked, sounding happy for her, and I realized that I should say something, but my mind was reeling from what I just heard.

“I have plenty of other options if you’re interested,” Misty spoke up before she glanced over my shoulder and I saw Jackie just about fallen out of his chair when David appeared behind me. He looked around the place, seemingly uncertain, but I quickly pointed at Misty.

“David, she can see the future,” I stated in all seriousness, glancing at Misty again. “Or she’s been following me,” I added, realizing that was also an option. I sent a ping off of her systems, only to come up with nothing. Misty didn’t have any implants. Not even a neural port. But I could dodge Arasaka Counter-Intel. I should be able to dodge her. In theory. “She used her cards to do it-”

“I really can’t take my eyes off of you for a second,” David remarked to himself, somehow not believing me. Before I could insist that she do it again to prove it, he continued. “We’re looking for Vik? Regina should have let him know we’re coming.”

Misty did seem a little disappointed, but she nodded. "He's just out that way and down the stairs. Can't miss him," Misty answered, gesturing behind her. David placed a hand on my shoulder, and I looked at Misty suspiciously as David led me out the back, seeing her offer a small wave as we left.

That was weird. Weird in a way that I really didn't know how to explain because if she was following me, then why would she tell me like that? Just to fuck with me? "David, I'm serious -- she knew stuff," I stressed and David just patted me on the shoulder.

"She was vague and your brain connected the dots," David refuted. "Put it out of your mind. That's how they get gonks like you who don't know any better, or the ones that want to believe, so they accept whatever answer they're given." He continued, making me pause. That could be true. It was probably true. But, replaying what I heard in my head, I couldn't shake the feeling that Misty knew. Or, at the very least, those cards of hers did. But, before I could argue the point, we descended down the stairs into a basement where we found who I was guessing was Vik.

Vik was a man with dark hair and despite being in a lowly lit basement, he wore a pair of dark sunglasses. A simple blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up that had a few buttons undone to reveal a white undershirt, dark blue jeans and a pair of brown boots. Even at a quick glance, I had to say that he was at the very least more professional looking than Doc had been. He glanced over us as we slid the door open, scooting back from the screen he had been watching. A fight. “You must be David and L. Folks don’t normally change rippers when they’re chromed up like you are,” Vik remarked, looking to David.

David offered an easy smile, “Didn’t have a choice in this case. My ripper got zeroed by Maelstorm a few hours ago.”

Vik cocked an eyebrow at that, “Doc?” He questioned, a faint edge of disbelief in his tone. “Doc was your ripper?” He questioned, looking for clarification.

Now David seemed a little put on the spot while I looked around the place, my briefcase in hand. The only real source of light in the room was from a bright light over a ripper chair, but it was lacking a bite guard. The only other sources of light were the low neon glows from various signs that were hanging off of the walls. Wouldn’t call the place clean, but it was cleaner than Doc’s. “Yeah? He was decent enough when he saw a repeat customer in you.”

“Probably the kindest thing anyone's ever said about the man,” Vik said, getting up. “If Regina pointed you in my direction, then you already know me but I’m Viktor Vektor. Everyone calls me Vik, though. What are you two looking for? General maintenance?” He questioned, looking to David, and then to me when I held up a briefcase.

“I’m looking to get chipped,” I said, handing the case over to Vik. Behind his glasses, I saw his eyes flicker over me before he took the suitcase.

“Sure thing. Take a seat in the chair,” he said, going to a bench to crack the case open while I did as instructed. David leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, also seemingly confused by the lack of a bite guard. “Optics, Visual Cortex Support, unlisted Cyberdeck, and a Ballistic Compressor. None of that should be a problem, but I will give you a heads-up -- you’re still a growing boy. The implants won’t be growing with you, though. You’ll be needing check ups every three months or so to make adjustments to your tech so you don’t end up cutting your gray matter in half or have a hand smaller than the other.”

I could tell that he had questions about the tech and the lack of any evident brand names on it, but he was swallowing them down. He wasn’t looking to pry beyond a single question, “Sure you trust this stuff enough to slot it in?”

“I’m sure,” I answered, looking at him as he prepped everything and saw green checkmarks across the board.

“Alright. I’ll just be putting you under to start cutting-” Vik started, injecting himself with a stabilizer to make sure that his organic hand wouldn’t tremble, but he paused when he saw me shaking my head.

“I won’t go under,” I told him.

Now he looked mildly concerned, “I don’t know how Doc was doing things in his back alley clinc, but no matter how tough you are, no one’s ready to have the top of their skull removed and eyes gouged out. It’ll fuck up the healing process -- half of the reason people suffer implant rejection is because the body feels like its an intruder. Putting you under tricks that noggin of yours into accepting the implants.” Vik said, and I saw David frowning.

“That won’t be a problem with me. I appreciate the concern, but I’m not going under for… personal reasons. It hasn’t caused any problems with me before,” I offered and I saw that gave Vik a lot of questions. He looked to David, who offered a small shrug.

“I’ve seen him get chipped before and he wasn’t under. Didn’t cause any problems from what I could see,” David remarked. I was always conscious when implants were put in me at the orphanage, even if I didn’t know what they were putting in me. It was so I, and others, could respond to questions of how we felt during the installation process. Most of the time, the answer was fine. Though, more than once, I had been able to taste colors. Light, I now realized, tasted like oranges.

Vik blew out a breath, “I’ll put this under the customer is always right, but if I get a whiff of something going sideways, I’ll put you under in a heartbeat.” Vik warned, and that seemed fair because I knew nothing would go wrong. Laying back, Vik slotted the materials for the Ballistic Compressor into a 3D printer that would stitch the materials into the palm of my hand while I jacked into his chair. His brow furrowed when he saw my Meditech.

“What kind of bootleg system is this?” He asked me and the answer was my own. My DNA was still encrypted and Doc had severely undersold how encrypted my DNA was. Outside of physically putting it under a microscope, it was impossible for a system to tell the difference between a red blood cell and a white blood cell. So, that’s what I had to do. Creating a tagging system, I created a version of Meditech that could tell the difference between the two to some degree of accuracy. When I didn’t answer, he just shook his head. “Alright. You’ll be feeling a pinch.”

I felt it in my neck and nearly instantly, everything above my collarbone instantly went numb. I heard a buzzing sound that was familiar and since I couldn’t talk, I let my mind wander as Vik worked. It almost felt normal, really. Not quite like I was back at the orphanage because as Vik worked, he was chatting with David.

“How’d you end up going to Doc’s of all places to get chromed?” Vik questioned, earning a small shrug from David.

“Sold BD’s at school for ‘em back in the day. He was the only ripper that I knew, so when I got my hands on a Sandy, I went to him,” David answered and I caught a wince before he looked away a split second before my vision went dark. The optics were being installed. “You had beef with him?”

“Wouldn’t call it beef. More of professional differences,” Vik responded as he worked. “Doc had real talent. He was just completely morally bankrupt. I know that could be said for half of this city, but it's different when you see him skimping out on anesthetic on a kid while hacking off his arm.” Vik continued, and from the sound of it, he wasn’t going to miss Doc.

David grunted in acknowledgment, “Yeah…”

“Shit. You too, huh?” Vik questioned, hearing what went unsaid. “When I finish up with him, I want to do a system check on you. Like I said, Doc was talented and he usually expressed that talent by cuttin’ corners that shouldn’t be cut. Shouldn’t take more than a couple of minutes.”

“I see why Regina recommended you,” David remarked, not committing to getting checked out. To that, Vik chuckled warmly.

“She sends all her mercs to me when they’re looking to get chipped,” Vik said and I think he shrugged. “Brings customers through the door -- though they don’t usually bring their own tech. Not a big fan of advertising so I let good work speak for itself. First time I’ve had a legend in the making come by, though. Be warned -- Jackie will probably end up asking you for an autograph on your way out.”

“Big guy?” David questioned, sounding amused.

“That’s the one. Merc by trade, but he’s one hell of a boxer,” Vik continued before I started to tune them out. Slowly, I felt that the two were warming up to one another as they exchanged small talk. The installation of the implants went relatively quickly. The entire process couldn’t have taken more than an hour. Just like going to the dentist. Sometime later, Vik spoke to me instead of David. “I’m switching on the optics in three… two… one…” he gave a warning before my vision suddenly returned.

My vision was sharp. Almost too sharp initially. Wincing at the sharp upspike in clarity, I squinted at my surroundings before I forced myself to magnify. My optics zoomed in -- five times, ten times, fifteen times, twenty, and then lastly twenty-five times until I could see in detail the dust floating in the air. Not quite microscopic, but it was in the ballpark. The shadows seemed a little less dark as the night vision activated.

“It’ll take a little bit to get used to,” Vik warned me. “Expect some visual glitches or some focusing issues at first, but once your brain gets used to them, the optic function will be connected to your thoughts. Went in like a charm and everything is hooked up to that deck,” Vik remarked as I sat up, a hand going to my head to feel nothing but smooth flesh and hair. That was weird. “Take out your iron, give it a try.”

Taking out my pistol, I took aim at a wall and saw the ricochet trajectory. Between the Visual Cortex Support, my Ballistic Compressor, and the quality of my Optics, the predictions were snappish. And with the high processing power of my cyberdeck that I had installed, it was a powerful combination. The one issue was that while by cyberdeck was powerful enough to run the Skeleton Key, it wouldn’t be strong enough to use both.

“Thanks, Vik,” I said, getting up and tucking the pistol away. “What do I owe you?” I asked him, and he waved me off.

“You’re fine this time, kid. I’ll charge you when you do something more than take up a little bit of my free time,” Vik voiced, taking a seat in a stool as he watched me carefully. I glanced at him to see that he meant the words and I offered a small smile in response. I already liked him a lot more than I liked Doc.

Stealing a glance at my hand to see the compressor built into my palm, I flexed it a few times. I was a step closer, I felt. The GN Drive Mk.1 was complete, my production capacity was starting to ramp up, and I had my first physical upgrades.

All that was left was to get the job done.