Strong Enough 1.4 (Patreon)

Solo 1.4

Once again, the ringing of her phone drags Taylor back to wakefulness.

With a blink, she accepts the call. A face so blandly attractive that it can only be computer-generated flickers into her implants. The voice immediately backs up that assumption.

“Greetings Ms. Taylor Hebert. This is a courtesy reminder from Arasaka Academy. Your charter mandated grief period has ended, and you are expected to resume attendance at the Academy starting today.

A brighter future together. Arasaka.”

The figure blinks out, leaving the Arasaka logo across the call screen. Taylor blinks that away, coughing as she rubs a hand across her face. Everything aches, and dried blood flakes off on Taylor’s fingers as her hand passes her nose. Somehow, she didn’t die on her bathroom floor last night, but it’s starting to feel like the worse outcome. Death can’t possibly be this unpleasant.

It takes her far too long to stagger upright, stripping out of yesterday’s clothes so she can stumble into the shower. The spray hits her right between her shoulders, sending a shiver down her back as the metal spine of the Sandevistan sucks up the cold. 

She takes the time to clean her hair.

The Academy uniform blazer and slacks still hang in the closet. She throws them on and grabs a lump of megaprocessed ‘food’ in the shape of a burrito from the nearest vending machine on the way out of her building. Pros of not living in a megabuilding: she doesn’t have to wait a year for the elevator. Cons: she has to run to the nearest NCART station to catch the monorail in time.

The window reflects a face nearly as blank as the AI assistant that woke Taylor up. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out a comb and runs it through her hair in sharp, mechanical motions. The sharp tug of plastic teeth pulling at her mane is grounding, calming.

Meditative.

Taylor’s lips quirk up into a ghost of a smile. She’s gotten better at lying to herself.

The haze releases its grip for a few scant moments, then the comb is folded away again and thick black strands of hair are pulled back into a ponytail. The car rocks gently on the elevated monorail, carrying Taylor across the sweeping vista of Night City. Behind her, Heywood recedes in the distance, midrises giving way to the towering super-scrapers of City Center. They stretch higher and higher, like the staircase to heaven.

She dreams of climbing them and throwing herself into the sky.

Her stop arrives. She can’t muster the energy to step forward as the NCART slows to a stop. The doors open.

They will acknowledge you.

Ice rushes through her veins, and Taylor shoves her way past two suits right before the car doors slip shut. She turns, watching the monorail accelerate away, leaving her behind. Taylor bows her head, counts to ten, and walks.

Her feet carry her unbidden to the steps of Arasaka tower. Somehow, she’s unsurprised to find Emma Barnes waiting outside with a few of her cronies. The car still catches her eye. Emma looks over from her perch on a low-slung G-something sports car as Taylor approaches. The body of the vehicle is the exact same shade of crimson as Emma’s hair, with electric green speed stripes.

That’s the least surprising thing of all.

“Look who decided to show up.” One of the other girls sneers down her nose at Taylor. “Can’t take a hint?”

“Have a heart, Char.” Emma braces one hand against the hood of her new car as she half turns. “The poor girl’s still grieving.”

“Emma.” Taylor starts up the steps without a pause. “The only thing that grieves me is the atrocious color of your hair—sorry car.” Then she’s past, doors of the tower opening as soon as it matches her implants to her student ID.

She glances back to see Emma glaring daggers at her. Taylor smirks. The other girl tosses her head, sending the car off to park before tucking the ID shard into her breast pocket.

Company policy; no outside datashards plugged during classes.

A brief stop at the office to turn in last week’s assignments means that Taylor doesn’t have to put up with her classmates before the start of their first lesson. She just lays back in her chair and pulls the thin metal band of her braindance wreath around her head. Lessons on history and finance reform law and advanced psychological marketing wash away the last day, the last week, the last year.

Taylor tells herself that she throws herself into her studies because she needs to be above reproach. That it’s not her mother’s voice whispering in her ear spurring her forward.

On the other hand, she knows exactly why Emma’s barbs bounce off of her during their social maneuvering lessons. It’s because Taylor killed five people. Next to that, what’s a crude remark about her weight supposed to do? Worst case, she can just imagine pressing her shiny new revolver to Emma’s forehead and painting the wall behind her the same color as her hair.

Meanwhile, that brand new car is the perfect source of ammunition. “Honestly, I can’t imagine driving around Night City like a pleb.” Taylor makes a show of checking Emma’s fingers. “Are you sure you’re not getting calluses?”

Emma snatches her hand back. “Stop talking about my car when everyone knows you ride public transit.”

“Do you yell at every gonk that cuts you off, or you do just take it like a good little defensive driver?” Taylor shakes her head. “I’d kill myself before getting behind a wheel in NC traffic.”

“Just like your mom, right, bitch?”

Taylor stills. 

The AI teacher materializes at Emma’s shoulder with an angry buzz. “Student Emma Barnes, please remain focused on the goal of this exercise.”

Taylor imagines cocking back the hammer of her revolver, and painting the room in two shades of red. “She has trouble with that. It’s probably congenital.”

The avatar turns towards Taylor. “Student Taylor—” the adjutant begins, before flickering in place. A bland smile replaces its faux upset expression. “Student Taylor Hebert, you have a visitor waiting for you in the main office. You are excused from the rest of this period.”

“Oh? Maybe they’ve finally decided to remove an eyesore from the Academy.”

Taylor nods. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you know if they’ve scrapped your car.”

Emma bristles, but doesn’t have the chance to reply before Taylor sweeps out of the room.

Who would have thought that a bit of vengeance would improve her outlook on life so much? For the first time in her life, Taylor feels like she was in control of some aspect of her life.

It gives her a way to address her mother’s death: keep moving, and maybe she won’t have to address it at all.

So lost in thought, she doesn’t even notice the second man as she enters the Principal’s office. The door slides shut behind her, but before she can speak, he steps in front of her.

She sees red optics.

His aren’t red like Maelstrom. The chrome junkies favor multiple optics, mismatched and crudely welded directly into their skulls. Often, they cut away their foreheads and eye sockets entirely. This man has a single red visor that sweeps across his face and casts shadows on the deep umber of his skin.

That visor, coupled with the charcoal gray Arasaka suit he wore, tells Taylor everything she needed to know about this visit.

“Ms. Hebert.” Principal Hirotaka’s voice comes from behind the suit’s broad shoulders. “This man is here on behalf of the company; he needs to speak with you on an important matter.”

Taylor squashes the urge to reach up and make sure her collar was still buttoned. She fastened it all the way up this morning out of caution, never once thinking it might actually matter. “Of—of course, sir.” She turns her gaze towards the visored man. “What can I do for you?”

He hums. “It would be preferable if we could speak in private.”

“Please, use my office!” Hirotaka rises, patting Taylor once on the shoulder as he walks past. “Ms. Hebert is one of our top performing students. I’m sure she will be eager to assist you in any capacity.”

Taylor dips her head, focusing on the glossy black of the man’s shoes until the door slips shut.

The silence grows long. Behind his visor, the man can be looking at everything, but Taylor can feel his gaze raking her up and down.  

She shuffles her feet. “How can I help you, sir?”

He takes a step forward in answer. “Your mother was a contractor working for Arasaka.”

Taylor nodded. “Yes, sir.” Her mom’s status as a contractor is in large part responsible for Taylor’s own outsider status at the Academy.

She knows from her studies that in other places, contractors are often individuals with a valuable but niche enough skillset that they managed to carve a place for themselves outside of the strict control of any one corp.

In Night City, the seat of Arasaka’s power in North America, however, a contractor is just someone who’s useful enough to exploit, but not useful enough to hire.

The man tilts his head, no doubt looking at something on his implant. “She had a surprising amount of expertise on nervous system implants, in part due to her relationship with one Daniel Hebert.”

Taylor jolts at his name before forcing a nod.

“She was assigned to a small division where her expertise eventually saw her promoted to team lead. Did she mention any of this to you?”

“She mentioned a recent raise, sir,” Taylor says.

“Nothing else, no details of her work? No documents left out that you might have…caught a glimpse of?”

Taylor shakes her head. “No, my mother knew better than to share corporate data.”

“On the day of her death—”

Taylor sucks in a breath.

The man continues without pausing. “Did she happen to have anything else with her, a package or otherwise that she did not normally have?”

“No, sir.”

He takes another step forward, firmly in Taylor’s space. “Really? Nothing at all that stands out.” Another step. “Be aware, Taylor, that if you are found to have concealed—”

Taylor activates the Sandevistan, but not to run.

She can feel her nerves fraying, and he’s barely started to up the pressure. In this, a moment of null time, she can see the interrogation techniques the man is employing; she’s been taught the techniques as part of upper division management seminars.

But the man is an expert, and Taylor is entirely in his power.

Arasaka Counterintelligence, because what else could he be? They don’t need things like warrants or probable cause to hold suspects. If he thinks Taylor is hiding something, he can pluck her out of the Academy for an actual interrogation, where the truth will come out in short order.

Taylor knows she isn’t a good enough liar to stop that from happening.

Here, in the space between seconds, Taylor doesn’t breathe. Her heart doesn’t beat. She can feel the strain beginning to build as she stays still, and tries to come up with a way out.

She has to give him something.

Taylor lets go, time snaps back around her like a vice.

“—anything from Arasaka, then—”

“Is this about my eyes?”

Taylor all but shoves the words out before cringing and folding in on herself. It’s not entirely fake; she remembers what powerlessness feels like.

The man pauses, tilting his head the other direction. “Your eyes? Elaborate, Ms. Hebert.”

Taylor jerks her head up and down. “Mom brought an old pair of NEYEADS. I—I didn’t think they were stolen, just refurbished and so I took them to get installed, and then—”

“Stop.”

Taylor stops.

The man leans in. “Show me your eyes.”

Taylor raises her head. 

“Look up and to the right.”

Taylor obeys. The ceiling is steel gray, and in it she can just make out her reflection, all but paralyzed in trepidation.

The man steps back after checking the serial number, or something like that. “These have been acquired through the secondary market. You say she brought them from work.”

Taylor shrugs. “She was talking about eyes on…on that day, and then.” She lets the emotions choke her throat closed. “I don’t—I don’t know where she got them, but sir, Mom would never—”

He raised a hand. “I am not concerned with what Annette Herbert ‘would’ or ‘would not’ do, only with what she did do.” 

Taylor’s stomach churns. She can’t stop herself from half-curling inward, ducking her eyes once again.

“Your cooperation, on the other hand, is greatly appreciated, Ms. Hebert.”

Taylor blinks, head snapping up. “Sir?”

He nods. “Rest assured, you were not pulled out of classes for something as mundane as aftermarket optics. However, if you remember anything odd about your mother’s behavior in the days and hours leading up to her demise…”

“I’ll let Arasaka know immediately, sir.”

“Good.” His attention leaves her, lifting from her shoulders like the removal of a physical weight. “You may return to your classes.”

“Thank you sir.”

His only response is a curt nod before striding out the door. 

Taylor is alone.

She slumps, leaning forward against the closest chair. Almost immediately, she straightens, brushing her hands over her uniform and tugging her collar up. Never show weakness.

A second later, Principal Hirotaka bustles back into the office. “Ah, Ms. Hebert, well done, well done.” He pats her on the shoulder. “Our friend from Arasaka said that you answered all of his queries adequately.” He nods. “I knew I could count on you.”

Taylor takes a deep breath. “It’s my duty.”

“Very good, very good.” He clears his throat and takes a seat behind the desk. “I wouldn’t dream of asking what was discussed, but consider yourself excused from the rest of the period. You can rejoin your classmates after lunch.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you sir.” Taylor tugs at her collar once again. “May I go?”

He nods, only to speak once again when Taylor opens the door. “I was concerned about you, Ms. Hebert.”

She stills, a hand on the frame. 

“I am glad to see you have chosen to continue your studies, despite your recent loss.”

This time, Taylor can’t find it in her to lie. “My mother wanted me to be someone more important than the daughter of a dead contractor.”

“Ahaha.” He folds his hands, awkwardly. “Of course. As I was saying, while it is our Academy’s duty to foster such a proactive spirit, raising the next generation of Arasaka’s proud leaders is hardly inexpensive.” The man clears his throat. “Your tuition payment for the upcoming semester has already been accepted, but after that…”

Taylor blinks once. When had her mom paid for next semester? But the answer comes almost immediately. Making the jump from contractor to a team lead would have come with a bonus, as well as preferential pay rates for the Academy. Rates Taylor no longer has access to.

“I understand,” she says.

“Good. Ah.” He nods again. “Please contact the bursar’s office at your convenience.”

She holds back a snort. “Of course, sir.” Like she has the money to pay for the rest of her education just lying around. 

The rest of the day passes in a blur. Taylor focuses on lessons just to have something solid to hang onto. With deliberate effort, she manages to get herself under control just in time to return home and discover that someone entered her apartment while she was at the Academy.

It was not a break in.

As Taylor stands in the open doorway, she arrives at that conclusion. The door remains functional, and nothing of value has been taken. She can see a small roll of eddies sitting on her mother’s desk where she left it this morning.

But furniture has been moved, doors opened, and her mother’s briefcase, now empty, lies discarded on the floor. Arasaka Counterintel had been here as well.

Taylor shuts the door and throws herself face first on the bed. She lays there, not speaking, not moving, thoughts tumbling over each other in her head, and reaches two conclusions.

She was right to return to the Academy. Rolling over, she stares at the ceiling. The fact that Counterintel had waited so long to approach her means that she’s low on their list of suspects. Even still, Taylor shudders as she imagines what might have happened if she’d been here instead of at school, when they came to turn over her apartment.

If they’d found her still unconscious and bloodstained on the bathroom floor.

Even now, she doesn’t know if her apartment is safe. They could have left cameras; they could be watching her right now.

Which leads to her second conclusion: she needs money.

She can’t stay here, not with the potential surveillance, so she needs money for a new apartment. If asked, it’s because she needs to save money for tuition. So, she needs a way to make money for that too.

Her cover has only become more important. As long as Taylor remains at the Academy, within easy reach, Arasaka won’t give her a second glance.

At least, she hopes they won’t.

With a groan, Taylor levers herself out of the bed. She opens her mom’s computer, giving it a brief sweep for bugs—not that she expects to find any. Counterintel isn’t staffed by idiots.

A glum look at her accounts confirms what Taylor already knew. Her mother’s savings had been enough for maybe one more semester at the Academy under the preferential rate, so long as Taylor didn’t waste any eddies on little externalities like food, or water, and certainly not on rent.

That was before she spent more than she really should have trying to track down Maelstrom.

So, yes. She needs money, she needs more eddies than any gonk on the street would be willing to pay, and she needs them fast.

Taylor pulls the drawer open. Her guns are still there.

She collects them and throws on her mother’s lab coat in place of her Arasaka Academy blazer. Then she is gone.