Strong Enough 2.4 (Patreon)

Gig Worker 2.4

“Well,” Sasha says. “A lot of it comes down to the car.” She blows a bubble. Taylor hears it pop over the audio call.

Taylor turns up the hot water. Unfortunately, it’s already turning lukewarm. She knows the sticky feeling is only in her head, but the temptation to give it another rinse persists.

“Sure you’re okay?” Sasha asks.

Taylor hits the button, and the water drains. “I’m fine.” Taylor wrings her hair out, one hand seeking the towel she draped right around the corner of the stall. “It’s a Quadra. Turbo-R 2075. Is that gonna be a problem?”

“So it’s a specific car we’re stealing now?” Sash hums. “And nah. The promo has a bunch of day zero knownvulns that the company never bothered to patch.”

Taylor steps out of the shower, carefully wrapping her hair in a dry towel.

“So.”

Taylor finishes drying and dressing with sharp, perfunctory motions. “What?”

“You gonna tell me why you need to steal this specific car, Scarlet?”

“Some bitch poured soda in my hair.” Taylor’s eyes flash red in the mirror. She frowns, swapping them back her normal brown. The NEYEads Annette made for her are responsive, but usually not that responsive. “And then tried to start a chemical reaction in it.”

Taylor still has the bottle, sitting on the bed. Long experience has taught her that reporting the incident to the Academy will do less than nothing. Emma’s cultivated enough connections with the administrators, and most of them hate Taylor anyway.

The downsides of ‘fostering a tribal mentality in the workplace’.

“You know what, that’s all you needed to say.” Sasha clicks her tongue. “Sure you don’t wanna just zero her?”

Taylor blinks. “I…”

“Don’t get me wrong, I think klepping a car is good payback, but I’ve known a cyberpunk or two that flatlined a bitch for less.” Sasha laughs. “I figured you’d be the itchy trigger type.”

“You know we pulled six jobs without killing anyone, right?” Taylor throws her school uniform back on. Her runner gear is still stashed at the penthouse, a state of affairs she will be correcting, along with the car.

“Live and let die,” Sasha says. “That’s my motto.”

“I’ll remember that.” Taylor rolls her eyes. “But could we focus up on the car?”

“Well, I’ll need a few more deets first. We going for a hot jack? Cause that’s a whole ‘nother can of mealworms.”

Taylor sighs, checks out of the hotel, and gives Sasha the rundown of Emma’s fancy new car.

“So,” the runner summarizes. “We’ll need access to one of the two storage locations, and a crack for the keyfile.”

“I can get the key.” That part had slipped into place the moment Taylor had conceived this plan.

“Wha’cha even need me for, then?” Sasha asks. “Now we just need to pull together the rest of the crew.”

“Crew?” Taylor blinks. “I don’t…”

“Scarlet, this is someone you know in civvies, right?” Sasha asks. Taylor reluctantly agrees. “So, you’re probably gonna want to keep your hands out of it, as much as you can. Plus, I know Becca and Dorio will be down fade a bitch who messes with our crew.”

Taylor says nothing, still reluctant.

Sasha sighs. “Look, just let me talk to them, ‘kay? You still got that chemical she tried to dump in your hair?”

“…Yeah.”

“Why don’t you give it to Pilar so he can take a look?.”

“He can do that?” Taylor asks.

“It’s about time he did something in the crew,” Sasha replies. “And if he complains, just tell him he owes me a couple, choombino. Make sure you say that last part.” She giggles. “He hates it.”

Taylor feels a full body shiver run down her spine at the thought of being called ‘choombino’. “I can’t imagine why.”

“Yeah, you get it.” Taylor can hear the smirk in Sasha’s voice over the call. “Swing by mine tomorrow, I’ll grab the girls, and we’ll plan to take a bitch down.”

What can Taylor do but agree?

The next day comes too soon. Fortunately, Emma waited for the end of the week to pull her little stunt. She probably wanted to drive Taylor out of the penthouse for the weekend. Taylor ducks her head while ducking out the door, and pretends that Emma’s snickering sends her scuttling down the stairs.

The rest of the girls are already at Sasha’s studio when Taylor rolls up.

“‘Ey!” Becca pulls Taylor into a hug. “The ‘woman of the hour’ has arrived!”

Dorio laughs. “What?”

Becca pushes Taylor into the crowded apartment. Sasha has a bed, a chair, and her desk, which maybe fits someone who spends most of their time on the net, but not her three best friends.

“I’m tryn’a sound all fancy, like Scar.” Taylor only protests minutely as Becca pulls her down to sit on Sasha’s bed. The runner doesn’t seem to care either. She’s claimed the chair, and Dorio is leaning against the corner like a well-muscled street lamp.

“So, how’re we getting even?” Dorio punches her palm, a sound that has more in common with two cars clipping each other than a punch.

“I’ve done some work on the target.” Sasha taps a few holographic buttons only she can see. “We’re going after this car; owner is a dumb kid who thinks she’s ready to swim with the big girls. She normally parks it in her swanky pent house or in corpo plaza. Normally, I’d say hit the penthouse, but it actually has some really good ICE.”

“Better than the plaza?” Dorio asks.

“It’s a parking garage.” Sasha gives a shrug, pulling up some diagrams on her screen that mean precisely nothing to Taylor. “Plus, runners’ve been working backdoors into corpo-tech cameras for years.”

Dorio hums, thumbing her chin. “How’d you meet this girl, Scar?”

Taylor half hunches. “I don’t see how that’s really relevant?” She knows immediately that Sasha has already figured it out, but the netrunner just leans back in her chair.

‘Trust them’ she mouths.

Easy to say, but Taylor’s never been one to trust.

“Hey, look.” Dorio walks over, more graceful that her hulking frame would suggest. “I get it, this is personal biz. But we’ve got your back. Crew is more than just a bunch of gonks you work with.” He holds out a fist. “Crew is the family you pick in this shithole of a city, ya hear?”

Taylor blinks, shifted even as Becca gives her a warm squeeze.

When was the last time someone hugged her? Taylor doesn’t have to think that long: it was Becca, and before that it was Becca too.

Taylor swallows and taps her fist against Dorio’s.

“I go to school with her,” Taylor says. “Arasaka Academy.”

That clearly isn’t the answer the big woman expected. Sasha flashes Taylor a catlike smirk and two thumbs up, and Taylor’s about to roll her eyes when Becca jumps on her again.

“Awww! Scar is a little baby!” She rubs her cheek against Taylor.

“Gah.” Taylor pushes, but the gremlin has latched on. “That’s not—”

“Shhh! Big sis Becca’s got you! We’ll shred that gonk, okay, little Scar?”

“I don’t think you’ll ever qualify as ‘big’ sis—”

Becca thumps her on the head, gently. “Rude.”

Taylor pouts, one hand rubbing her head as Becca all but sits in her lap.

Dorio laughs once, before standing up again. “An’ here I thought you just liked having chubby cheeks.”

Taylor blushes. “I don’t have a faceplate.” It’s another thing Emma needles her about endlessly.

“No shot!” Becca grabs both of Taylor’s cheeks. “This is all natural? That’s not fair!”

Taylor huffs. “You can stop trying to make me feel better.”

“I’m not joking.” Becca cross her arms, turning away. “I knew girls who would kill for your cheekbones.”

“Dorio just called me chubby,” Taylor replies.

“Ladies.” Sasha snapes her fingers. “If we could focus up.” Taylor lets out a sigh of relief, only to choke when Sasha askes. “We’ll be able to share beauty tips during our celebratory spa trip!”

“Yahoo!” Becca throws her hands up in the air, and even Dorio looks pleased at the idea, so Taylor knows she’s been outvoted.

She just hopes she won’t be paying for the whole trip. She’s saved up a bunch of eddies from her gigs, but she needs those funds for tuition.

Though, if she could pass her infiltrating Arasaka Academy off as a business expense… They were impressed by her counter intel trick…

“…Corpo Plaza it is.”

Taylor snaps upright.

“Right.” Sasha nods. “We’ll have to figure out a handoff, but with the Sandy, it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Becca sprawls backwards on the bed. “Except the only one who fits in with those stiffs is Scar! Who’s she gonna had off the key to?”

Sasha raises her hand to volunteer, but Taylor sees the perfect chance for some well-deserved revenge.

“Actually,” she says. “I think I have the perfect candidate.”

Becca tilts her head, completely missing the predatory glimmer in Taylor’s eyes. She thinks…a classic black and white will go best with that electric alice skin.

Sasha giggles. “Sounds like you two need to go shopping.”

“I mean, if you wanna go shopping, I’m your girl,” Becca says. “But what’s that gotta do with the gig?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Taylor says.

“I’ll need to get some programs set up to break the tracking software,” Sasha cuts in. “After that, if you just unlock the car for me, I can pilot it out of the garage.”

“And then I’ll pick it up and drive it to the chopshop?” Dorio asks.

Taylor bits her lips at that. “Do you…have a place you can stash it?”

Dorio shrugs. “Sure, but it’ll take more eddies to get it street legal again.”

“I’m thinking…future bargaining chip?” Taylor tries.

Becca wipes a tear from her eye. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it, you.”

Becca giggles.

“Right, sounds like we all have our assignments.” Sasha takes off her headset. “We’ll finetune the gig once we’re set.”

Taylor shakes her head. “It always sounds so simple.”

“Simple is best, when the rubber hits road,” Dorio says. “Simple means you gonks know what to do…and you don’t zero two pigs by mistake.”

Taylor blushes again. “That—”

“See! That’s not fair!” Becca points. “How is she paler than me! I’m literally cyan! I paid for these blush mods!”

“Skill issue~!” Sasha hums.

Becca stomping around on the bed angrily is enough to make Taylor laugh, even if its partially at herself. After that, the meeting breaks up, almost like the small apartment is almost squeezing them out. Maybe if they were all Becca-sized, it would be a comfortable fit.

Dorio catches her at the lift. “Wanna grab a bite to eat?” she asks. “I know a place that makes real noodles.”

The offer catches Taylor off guard.

“I’m asking.” The woman gives what’s probably supposed to be a disarming smile, but she’s just so muscular it falls a bit flat. “If you wanna delta, it’s cool.”

Taylor shrugs. She doesn’t want to go home just yet. “Sure.”

They end up taking Maine’s car. The hulking jeep is almost as spacious as the apartment. Dorio fiddles with the radio a bit, before giving it up as a bad job.

The place with ‘real noodles’ isn’t far.

It’s a pop up, four stools bolted to the sidewalk right in front of a bar built right into the wall. Dorio squeezes the car into the nearest alley, it’s illegal, and she’s blocking at least two other cars who got there first.

“Oy, old man!” The blonde woman plops herself done on one of the stools. “Two real deals!”

“Fifty!” The man shouts back. Taylor almost blanches. Twenty-five eddies a bowl is something she expects from restaurants, not from some literal hole in the wall, but it’s not her money.

The cook gets to work, ladling broth out of a big vat squatting hideously in the corner.

Dorio turns to face her. “How you holding up?”

Taylor is caught off guard for the second time. “With what, the gig?”

“Nah.” Dorio snorts. “Little bitch’ll get hers. I mean all of it. Specially cause you’re a kid.”

Taylor bits back the instinctive ‘I’m not a kid’. “You gonna curb me?” she asks instead.

“Gotta grow up fast in NC.” Dorio shrugs. “You hold together better than gonks twice your age.”

“Thanks,” Taylor says. “It’s…”

How do you sum up running the edge? It’s completely different than what Taylor expected. In some ways better, in most its worse.

But to be honest, her gigs slip past her, stepping stones across the burning river of fire that spools deep in her stomach. She just needs to reach the source.

“It’s not much different than corpo espionage,” she settles on. “That’s what I thought I’d be doing, anyway.”

Dorio laughs, a big, booming sound. “Ain’t you just dyed in the wool.” Taylor is still puzzling out if that’s a complement when Dorio adds, “And about that girl, you good? Specifically.”

“She’ll get hers, won’t she?”

“Yeah.” Dorio nods. “But, I got the details on the chems from Pilar.”

Something in Taylor’s gut clenches. “What was it?”

“Don’t remember the name,” Dorio says. “Reacts with sugar, maybe would’a melted the skin right off your head.”

“…Ah.”

Dorio gives her a moment to process that. “Maine, big dumb ass, thought for sure you were older. I wasn’t sure, but then you pulled six clean gigs. That’s not nothing.” She reaches out, squeezes Taylor’s shoulder. “We got your back. Is what I’m trying to say. I’m not…good at the mushy shit.”

“No, no, it’s—” Taylor presses a hand to her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Dorio pats her shoulder again, and for some reason that makes Taylor’s eyes hot. The woman doesn’t say another word until the food arrives.

The bowls are simple chipped plastic. Same with the sticks. Still, the broth his hot enough to steam, and doesn’t smell like additives. Dorio digs in without a word.

Taylor is a bit slower. She takes a mouthful of noodles, blowing on them gently, before slurping them up.

Then she freezes. Chews. Swallows.

“That’s the goo shi’, ight?” Dorio’s mouth is full.

Taylor nods, chewing and slurping down another mouthful of noodles. They’re soft and chewy, but in a good way, that doesn’t crunch or smoosh into textures that shouldn’t be there. Instead, it’s the same all the way through, a perfect vessel for carrying the broth up to her mouth.

She thinks she’s maybe had real noodles once, at some fancy dinner years ago with Emma. These are at least as good; she’d almost forgotten the flavor.

Taylor buys the second round, for each of them.

After they’re done eating, Taylor feels pleasantly stretched over her bones. It’s like the warmth of the broth had settled into every nook and cranny, and she almost passes out after they hop back in the car, the pleasant wrrrr of the engine almost lulling her to sleep.

“Thanks for going halfsies,” Dorio says during the drive.

“Worth every enny,” Taylor replies. The bigger woman laughs.

“You gotta soft side to you after all, hey Scar?”

Taylor just shrugs sleepily, letting Dorio’s chatter wash over her as the car speeds down the Night City streets.

“—makes more sense that you’re half corpo, they start ‘em young huh?” A soft laugh brushes against Taylor’s ears. “Maine thinks you’re our shot to the big leagues, so keep your head on yeah? If you ever need to turn down a gig, I’ve got your back.”

Taylor blinks, rubbing her face. “Big leagues?”

“Every dumb gonk in this town things they can be a merc.” Dorio snorts. “How many d’you think make it? We were doin’ pretty good before you showed up, but we’ve been running nova since. Plus, Me and Maine took on a couple more…direct gigs while you and Sash were playing counter intel.”

Taylor grumbles, they’re never gonna let that go. “What, like shooting people?”

“Some of that, plus some high-end bodyguard work.” Dorio flexes her arm, the biceps visible beneath the leather of her jacket. “I’m pretty fucking intimidating, ain’t I?”

Taylor let’s out a half laugh. “Bet some starlet tried to hit on you.”

“Maine actually.” Dorio smirks. “Shoulda seen his face when some joy-toy looking ass came onto him.”

They make it to the penthouse too soon. Taylor stares up at it from the window.

“Hey,” Dorio says.

Taylor looks back.

“Remember. We’re your corner.” The woman grins. “Just say the word and we’ll zero her ass.”

Taylor laughs. “Thanks. I’ll settle for the car.”

Dorio shrugs. “It’s your biz. Just keep your head on, and Sasha told me to tell ya to take it easy till the job.”

“Right.” Taylor pulls a face. “She’s been trying to get me to relax. I guess this isn’t exactly relaxing.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Dorio replies. Then she reaches out and ruffles Taylor’s hair with one massive mitt. “Now get going! And you better not welch on my spa day!”

“Wha—that doesn’t have—”

“No welching.” Dorio leans in close. “I am getting my girls’ trip.”

“R-right.” Taylor fumbles for the latch. With a burst of speed, she’s out of the car and standing on the sidewalk. “Can’t wait!”

She slams the door in Dorio’s laughing face.

She marches up the stairs, puts on a wincing demeanor in the face of Emma’s barbs, and locks the door. “It’s just a spa day,” Taylor says to herself.

She sprawls out on the bed, checks her emergency gun (never hurts to have a spare), and promises that once she’s back on top of Emma, she’ll have her little ‘relaxing’ spa day, and then she’ll go back to putting Maelstrom in the ground.

A little waiting never killed anyone.

~~*

The warehouse smells of rusting iron tinged with blood.

“We’re out of anesthetics, Royce.”

A dozen red eyes whip around. “Did I fuckin’ ask?” Royce spits.

“No,” the ripper starts, “but—”

“Cause last I fucking checked.” Royce gets up. “I was the fucking boss and you don’t come in here and tell the boss what not to FUCKING do!”

The ripper doc nods, backing away. “Sure. I just…wanted to let you know! Cause you’re the boss!”

Royce grunts, collapsing back in the plastic chair. Used to be, he’d shoot a gonk for making him sit in some pleb shit like this. “Will Tank live?”’

“…Probably.”

“Then chip him in, Rip.” Royce waves an arm, metal clanking together before he rests it back on the ground. “I ain’t got all day.”

Rip swallows. “This…this ain’t normal implants, Boss. Even if they all make it, will it even…”

“Worked for Deadman’s crew, didn’t it?” Royce asks. “It’ll work for us too, just wait. Those fucking gonks think they can back Maelstrom into a corner? Think they can push me around?” He gives a half giggle. “Joke’s on them, right, Rip? If they hadn’t pushed so fucking hard we wouldn’t have found this stash, all just waiting to be put to use. Next time those animals come sniffing round, we’ll put em down.”

Metal crunches against concrete, cracking it.

“We’ll show those fuckers how strong metal is, won’t we, Rip?” Royce laughs again. If he’d bothered to look, he would have noticed that Rip had long left the room.

Only muffled moans that echoed into screams remained.